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THE ARAB AT HOME 


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Photo by Victor & Co., Baghdad. 


\RAB 


ARIS PICAL 


THE 
ARAB AT HOME 


BY 
PAUL W. HARRISON, M.D. 


NEW YORK 
THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 





CoPpyRIGHT, 1924, 
By THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY. 


PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 


VAIL-BALLOU PRESS, INC. 
BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK 


To 
Abdul Aziz bin Saoud 
Abdullah bin Jelouee and 
Abdur Rahman bin Sualim 
three of my best friends 


Digitized by the Internet Archive 
In 2022 with funding from 
Princeton Theological Seminary Library 


https://archive.org/details/arabathomeOOharr 


PREFACE 


This book is not intended as a description of mis- 
sionary work. It is an effort to picture one of the 
peoples for whom missionary work is done, and to show 
the normal and indispensable place that such work has 
in their future progress. It is based on fourteen years’ 
experience as the representative in Arabia of the Trinity 
Reformed Church of Plainfield, N. J., twelve of which 
were spent in the field. My indebtedness to the Rev. John 
Y. Broek, the pastor of that church, can not be expressed. 

The book owes much in the way of criticism and 
correction to my sisters, Mrs. Perry Swift and Mrs. 
Henry C. Harrison, and more to my wife who has been 
the inspiration for the book and for the work on which 
itis based. Many of the illustrations I owe to my friends 
in Arabia. Few of them were taken by myself. The 
frontispiece, a photograph of which I am very fond, is 
used by courtesy of Victor and Company of Baghdad. 

Finally I am indebted no little to the publisher’s editor, 
Miss Henrietta Gerwig, for her thorough and painstak- 
ing work in following my book through the press, in 
America. 

Hat VV ET 


S. S. Berengaria, 
March 11, 1924. 


Vil 


EDITOR’S NOTE 


Except in a few instances, the spellings of the proper 
names used in this book are those of the Encyclopedia 
Britannica. The Century Dictionary usage has been fol- 
lowed for oriental words. The most common alternative 
spellings are noted in the index. 

Since the book went to press, the death of Abdul Aziz 
bin Saoud has been announced. No confirmation of the 
report has been received up to this date. 

Teta 

New York, 


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MAP OF ARABIA 
Drawn by Charles A. Pearsall. Scale, 300 miles to an inch 


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CONTENTS 


First IMPRESSIONS OF THE ARAB . 
THE BEDOUIN OF THE DESERT . 
THE OAsIs COMMUNITY 


PEARL DIVERS OF THE EAst COAST . 


Tue Mountain District of OMAN . 


THE ArAzs or MESOPOTAMIA 
Tue Aras SHEIKH . 

Tue Rue or THE TURK 
Tue British REGIME 

GREAT EMPIRES oF ISLAM 
THe MOHAMMEDAN FAITH . 


“Tue Five PInLArs” 


An APPRAISAL OF MOHAMMEDANISM . 


THE RELIGION oF “WESTERN HEATHENISM” . 


Tue ARAB AND CHRISTIANITY 


BRINGING MEDICINE AND SURGERY 


ARABIA 
Tue FuTuRE OF THE ARAB . 


INDEX 





ILLUSTRATIONS 


A Typical Arab 

A Desert Well . 

Arab Hospitality 

Sand Dunes 

Bedouins in the Desert . 
Nomad _ Bedouins 

Bedouin Women 

Oasis Scenes (1) 

Oasis Scenes (2) 

Oasis Scenes (3) 

Oasis Industries 

Oasis Dwellers . 

Kuwait and Bahrein HKG. 
Agrear Diver and iis» House). 
A Caravan Entering Muscat . 
Oman ‘Types 

Scenes in Oman ‘ 
A Boat on the Tigris River . 


Gardens in Mesopotamia . 


An Arab Village on the Lower iuaheated : 


A Scene in Baghdad . 
Coffee Shops in Mosul 


. Frontis 


4 
12 


16 
20 
24 
30 
46 
50 
58 


Xil ILLUSTRATIONS 


Basra Custom Houses . 


The Sheikh of Bahrein . 


The Castle of the Sheikh of Dareen . 


The Sheikh of Kuwait 
A Bedouin Sheikh . 

They City omiaden), 
Members of the Akhwan . 
The Moharram . 

Typical Mosques 

Mosques in Mesopotamia . 
Pilgrims at Mecca . 

The Old and the New . 


Western Civilization 


The Kuwait Mission School . 


A Colporteur at Work . 

A “Medicine Man” 

The Hospitals at Kuwait . 
Hospital Patients 


Outline Map of Arabia 


THE ARAB AT HOME 


Ghia eT Bary 


FIRST IMPRESSIONS: OF THE ARAB 


‘4 ! 40 the casual stranger traveling for the first time 
in Arabia, few things seem more remarkable 
than the physical qualities that enable the Arab 

to cope with his unfriendly environment. The Arab is 

a son of nature and his appearance makes a vivid im- 

pression. Moderately tall, almost always lean and 

hungry-looking, with a prominent, more or less aquiline 
nose, his whole physical form appears as a setting for his 
magnificent black eyes, which seem to pierce one’s very 
soul. A fat, lazy-looking Arab is an anomaly, to be 
found only in the cities where unusual temptations to 
luxury have been encountered. The Arab is a falcon. 

His lean, erect, sinewy body is built to endure fatigue, 

and the lines on his face tell stories of a life full of 

hunger and hardship, and innocent of most of the 
amenities that are a matter of course with us. 

His endurance is a proverb. The stranger in Arabia 
hires camels and rides with a caravan. The Arab 
camel-man walks all day, driving the camels through 
the heavy sand and over the rocky roads of the desert, 
and when the hard twelve or even sixteen hour trek is 


finished, the Westerner is usually more fatigued than 
I 


2 THE ARAB AT HOME 


the Arab who has walked along by his side and who in 
addition has done the chores of the caravan. These 
desert Arabs are incomparable walkers, and frequently 
messengers with important letters will cover long dis- 
tances in an astonishingly short time. Between Hasa 
and Katif, in eastern Arabia, stretches a desert road 
of perhaps one hundred miles, and messengers have 
told me of covering that distance in less than two days. 

The Arab is a splendid scout. His sight and hear- 
ing may be no better than ours, but his natural abilities 
together with lifelong training make the sands of the 
desert an open book. As the caravan marches along, 
the desert newspaper is read. “Ah, three days ago a 
flock of gazelles passed here,’ and “Here is the track 
of a wolf that was following them,” or “This is the 
track of a dhabb,”’ the large desert lizard which the 
Arabs regard as a great delicacy. 

However, their ability to read the language of the 
sand and plain goes far beyond such a b c’s as that. 
“Now what do you think of this?’ announces one of the 
caravan’s outriders. “Ibn Khalid’s caravan passed 
along here four days ago. He had twelve camels with 
him, and five men.” 

“Were they well loaded?” 

“No, only three of them were loaded at all, and the 
loads were light. Two were carrying dates and the 
thirdyrices: 

“Yes, and his fine white camel, the one he bought a 
year ago from Ibn Ali for three hundred riyals, has 
gone lame.” 

Expressions of appreciative sympathy are heard from 
all the caravan. To the stupid Westerner the thing 
seems uncanny, and the Arab’s effort to show how sim- 


FIRST IMPRESSIONS é 


ple it is to read the book of the desert only increases 
his feeling of amazement. If some one could devise an 
alphabet in which “A” resembled a gazelle track, “B”’ 
that of a wolf, “C” that of a lame camel, the Arab 
should learn to read in a few hours! 

The different tribes vary in their proficiency, but the 
Al Murra are the acknowledged masters of this art. 
One of the British political agents of Kuwait, the late 
Captain William Shakespear, told of testing his Murra 
guide very carefully. He traveled a great deal in in- 
land Arabia, and was equipped with the instruments 
necessary to determine his location. He kept a careful 
map of all his trips. “Now,” he said one day to his 
guide, “we may want to return to our camp of several 
days ago. Which is our direction?” 

The track during the intervening days had been a 
winding and indeterminate one, and the necessary 
course had already been determined ‘with instruments. 
The guide sat and considered for a few minutes, re- 
Viewing in his mind the journeys of the past few days. 

“To reach the camp,” he replied, “we must strike off 
in this direction,’ indicating the same course as the 
instruments. 

A far more striking test of this particular Arab’s sense 
of locality and direction and distance came at another 
time. The caravan was almost out of water and the near- 
est well ahead was at a hopeless distance. There seemed 
to be no alternative but to return to a nearer well in the 
rear, “No,” said the guide, “I do not think it is necessary 
to do that. We will lose four days’ time, and for the ac- 
complishment of your program our time is already short 
enough. There is water, if God wills, a trifle to our left 
and two days’ journey ahead.” 


4 THE ARAB AT HOME 


“Are you certain of this?” asked Captain Shakespear. 
“To spend two days in reaching that point and find noth- 
ing will be to risk dying from thirst, for our water will 
not last over two days.” 

“Tf the Lord wills,” replied the guide, “there is water 
there.” 

Captain Shakespear reflected that the guide would have 
to go without water if the rest did, and indeed considering 
his loyalty he probably would be the first to go thirsty, so 
the caravan started off, with no path to follow and no 
landmarks to guide them. Their only compass was the 
instinct of a Murra guide. ‘Two days later, in the after- 
noon, the guide remarked that they appeared to have ar- 
rived at the proper place, and he turned to the side a few 
hundred feet, dug down into the sand a few inches, and 
the water was ready. The locality was without any land- 
mark that a Westerner could fix for its identification. It 
was simply a few square yards in the limitless waste of 
the Arabian desert. 

“When did you learn of this water ?” 

“Oh,” said the guide, “three years ago I was passing 
along here and found this water-pocket more or less by 
accident.” 

“Have you never been here since?” 

“No, never either before or since.’’ 

It is not surprising that the Arabs have a proverb that 
a Murra Arab taken on a three days’ journey blindfolded, 
and at the end of that time compelled to bury a rupee in 
the sand by night in the midst of a trackless desert, can 
return ten years later and get his rupee with no difficulty 
whatever. 

Aside from this remarkable physical acumen and en- 
durance, probably the one thing that impresses itself most 


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FIRST IMPRESSIONS D 


vividly upon the mind of the Westerner in Arabia for the 
first time is the cordial hospitality of the people. The 
way that strangers expect and receive entertainment in 
the houses of sheikhs and prominent Arabs is a beautiful 
thing. “Honor the guest, even though he be an infidel,” 
runs the Arab proverb, and it is obeyed. We of the West 
are far behind the Oriental in this regard. The poor as 
well as the rich recognize the sacredness of the bond of 
hospitality. The Arabs even tell of a thief who broke 
into a house at night and after looting the place found a 
small gold box which seemed very valuable. After some 
effort he was able to open it. It contained a box similar 
in character but smaller, and this when opened held a 
third. After a number of boxes had thus been removed, 
the inner casket was revealed, and it contained some fine 
white powder. The thief was very curious to know what 
sort of powder was preserved with such extraordinary 
care, so he tasted it. It was salt. Salt is the bond of 
hospitality in Arabia, and the robber, having thus unwit- 
tingly partaken of the hospitality of the house, immedi- 
ately replaced all the stolen articles and left. Robbery 
was nothing to his conscience, nor murder if it should 
prove to be necessary, but he was not so abandoned a 
criminal as to break the laws of hospitality. Arabia is 
normally a land of continual raids and of a very loose 
conception of public order. Assassination is not uncom- 
mon, and nearly every sort of crime of violence occurs 
frequently, yet I never heard of the laws of hospitality 
being violated and of a man being killed while a guest 
except in one solitary instance, and the story passed 
from mouth to mouth as the recital of some great 
enormity. 

Just now Arab hospitality is at its best in the court of 


6 THE ARAB AT HOME 


Ibn Saoud, the ruler of the Wahabi state of inland Ara- 
bia. During one of our visits to Riyadh, the capital city 
of the Wahabis, a son of the Great Chief was married. 
The feast with which the nuptials were celebrated was 
a tremendous affair. The large courtyard was covered 
with scores of the circular mats around which the Arabs 
sit when they eat. At each mat sat from four to six 
Arabs, and attendants brought in huge bowls of cooked 
meat and great dishes of boiled rice. As fast as one 
group was filled to repletion, they arose and gave way to 
others who took their place. Four hundred sheep were 
killed for this feast, as well as ninety-three camels. The 
quantity of rice consumed must have been enormous; I 
was not able to get even an estimate of it. The guests 
came from far and near, and no one went away hungry. 
These affairs are not by special invitation. That would 
seem preposterous to an Arab. They are for all the 
world, or at least for all of it that cares to come. Ibn 
Saoud’s guests are from all over Arabia, from Yemen 
and Hadhramut in the extreme south of the peninsula and 
even from the Mesopotamian deserts above Baghdad and 
as far north as Mosul. At times he entertains over a 
thousand men in the various guest houses of the little city. 
They are royally treated and may stay as long as they 
wish. There is food for man and beast, good food and 
liberal quantities. Besides this there is a gift for every 
one. The poorest Bedouin goes away with a present of 
some sort; a new aba, perhaps, and a certain amount of 
money. The men of higher station and the visiting 
chiefs, of course, receive much more elaborate presents. 

The Westerner who spends long days with an Arab 
caravan, traveling over great lonely stretches of desert, 
and who is welcomed in Arab tents and courts in this 


FIRST IMPRESSIONS 7 


gracious spirit of hospitality, has even in his first casual 
encounters an unusual opportunity to come into genuine 
contact with Arab life. Soon he begins to have some in- 
sight into the Arab mind, a mind remarkable for its con- 
stant agile activity, and equally remarkable for its in- 
ability to concentrate on anything except a specific object 
within the range of vision. The average Arab is charm- 
ingly simple and direct in his mental processes. It seems 
impossible for two ideas to remain in his mind at once. 
Furthermore he thinks of concrete and definite things; 
the vague and the indefinite and the philosophical have 
little place in his thoughts. This trait is what makes the 
Arab so abrupt in speech as often to seem discourteous. 
The townsman, and especially the Arab of the coast city, 
has learned something of the art of making himself agree- 
able even if he does not feel that way, but such artifice 
is not for the Bedouin. ‘“‘Come here, you!’ shouted one 
of them to the British Political Agent, who was an hon- 
ored guest of the tribe. The Political Agent’s retinue 
from the town were horrified and expostulated hastily at 
so discourteous a mode of address, but the Englishman 
laughed and told the man to talk as he was used to doing 

This very engaging frankness of the desert is shown 
at all times. During one of our trips the conversation 
turned to the sandy desert through which we were passing 
and the surprising amount of vegetation that ap- 
peared in the spring, which is the season for the very 
slight rains of that region. Later almost all of this 
growth dries up, and there remains dry fodder sufficient 
to feed a large number of sheep and camels. The strange 
thing was that no such grazing seemed to be done. The 
Bedouin camel-man agreed to my remark that it would 
make splendid pasture but explained that there were no 


8 THE ARAB AT HOME 


wells in the district, so it would not be possible to bring 
goats and camels there to graze, since they must be wa- 
tered at least once a day. Efforts to dig wells in that vi- 
cinity had been numerous, but had never met with any 
success. 1 went on to ask how deep such wells had been 
dug, but the conversation seemed to weary the man, and 
he assured me that doubtless, if the effort were made, it 
would not be difficult to find water. 

My surprise at such an ending to the conversation was 
great, but I was soon enlightened. ‘‘What do you mean 
by telling the Sahib that water could be found here if 
men would only dig wells?” asked another of the camel- 
men, who had arrived in time to hear the last few sen- 
tences of the conversation. ‘Don’t you know that the 
effort has been made repeatedly and has always failed?” 

“Oh,” replied the first Arab, paying no attention what- 
ever to my presence, “I get tired of this man’s talk. Il 
could not stop his questions by telling him the truth, so I 
told him something else. I thought that might suit him 
better.” 

Whatever is on the Arab’s mind flows easily off the end 
of his tongue and whatever he wants he goes straight 
after. One day I was walking along one of the princi- 
pal streets of Hofuf, the capital of Hasa in eastern Ara- 
bia. Hofuf may be a city of thirty thousand inhabitants. 
It was the middle of the afternoon, and the street was full 
of people. A Bedouin came up to me with a look of great 
surprise on his face. “Open your mouth!” he demanded 
abruptly, much as if I had been an intelligent camel or 
horse. It was a somewhat startling request under the 
circumstances. 

“What is the matter? Why do you want me to open 
my mouth?” 


FIRST IMPRESSIONS 9 


“Open your mouth,” insisted my new friend with the 
usual Bedouin economy of words. ‘Open your mouth. 
I want to see.” 

“Yes,” I persisted, “but what do you want to see? 
There is nothing remarkable in my mouth.” 

“Open your mouth,” again demanded this son of the 
desert, obviously annoyed at so much unnecessary talk. 
“I saw something in there that looks like gold.” 

So I opened it up, and he gazed in rapt astonish- 
ment. ‘Abdullah,’ he shouted, “Abdul, Karim, Khalid, 
come here,’ and soon there was a ring of admirers all 
studying a gold tooth for the first time. I have been in 
many embarrassing situations, but standing in the middle 
of a busy street with my mouth wide open and a dozen 
interested Arabs examining my teeth remains a unique 
experience. “Mashallah,’ finally said the man who had 
first demanded that I open my mouth. “Did it grow that 
way?” 

“No, no, it did not grow that way. It was put in, to 
replace one that fell out.” 

More expressions of astonishment. ‘Have you doc- 
tors that can do things like that?” 

“Oh yes, and many of them.” 

I am sure that at least a dozen Bedouins lost their repu- 
tation for truthfulness that night when they got home. 
Each told his wife with graphic gestures and much ex- 
aggeration that he had seen a man with a gold tooth, and 
each one was told, I do not doubt, that his veracity had 
been under suspicion for a long time and now there was 
no question but that he was an undiluted liar. 

The single women of an American mission station of- 
ten find this simplicity and directness of speech to which 
the Arab is addicted somewhat embarrassing. ‘What! 


10 THE ARAB AT HOME 


you not married yet,—but you certainly are of marriage- 
able age. You must be at least twenty.” 

“Yes, I am twenty-five.” 

“But why then are you still without a husband? You 
are good-looking. Is your temper so bad that no man 
will take you?” 

I remember an amusing example of how little the desert 
Arabs care for the opinion of foreigners. One of the 
members of our caravan was a grizzled old veteran of 
many years’ desert experience. Probably he had never 
met a white man before. He observed that when the time 
came for morning prayers, this strange foreigner did not 
pray with the rest. The old man was greatly exercised 
in mind over this astonishing fact. Apparently he feared 
that the earth might open and swallow up the caravan for 
harboring such a monster of iniquity. He sought out the 
leader of the caravan and communicated to him the ter- 
tible news. 

“That man does not pray.” 

“Yes, yes,” soothingly replied the more sophisticated 
caravan leader, “I suppose that may possibly be so, but 
you know he is a great doctor and Ibn Saoud 1s bringing 
him to Riyadh to treat the sick there.” 

The old partriarch answered with a voice full of scorn 
for the foreign infidel, and of more scorn for this rene- 
gade Moslem who would introduce such irrelevancies into - 
a discussion which concerned matters of life and death. 
I can see him still as he replied, “I tell you, the man does 
not pray.” It was with considerable difficulty that the 
old man was mollified sufficiently to accompany us. 

But the Arab is an incorrigible democrat and apparently 
there are no circumstances in which he will not respond 
to simple democratic friendship. Even this old Bedouin, 


FIRST IMPRESSIONS 11 


so exercised in mind because the foreigner would not 
pray, came afterwards to be fast friends with us. I found 
him at noon of the same day trying to mend his cloak. 
He had no needle, nor even thread, but by raveling out a 
thread from his cloak and tying the frayed edges to- 
gether, he made a certain amount of progress toward get- 
ting it mended. We were armed with a considerable 
equipment for just such emergencies, so I hunted up for 
him a fine fat needle with a big eye and a long, strong, 
black thread, such as we use to sew on shoe buttons. 
Then I went up and introduced myself. “‘My father,” I 
said, “I see that you are mending your aba. I have here 
a needle and thread, and if you would care to use them, 
you are more than welcome. I have plenty of thread, 
so if you care for more, come and help yourself. Only 
let me have the needle back when you have finished.” 
The old man seemed quite astonished at such an evidence 
of humanity on the part of a man who did not pray, but 
his surprise did not hinder him from making good use 
of his opportunities. He used up that thread and came 
back twice for more. At the end, with his own and his 
little boy’s aba carefully mended, he returned the needle. 
After that, the matter of neglected prayers ceased to 
trouble his mind. It is true that religion is the most im- 
portant thing in life to the Arab, far more important 
than to the average Westerner, but the Arab is born a 
democrat and all the efforts of his religious leaders to 
make him over into a bigoted aristocrat are only moder- 
ately successful. Even the fanatical Wahabis from the 
inland country, who are the most orthodox of orthodox 
Mohammedans and extremely intolerant of infidels, in- 
variably soften and become warm friends after they are 
acquainted, JI have never yet been in a caravan where 


12 THE ARAB AT HOME 


we were not all on the best of terms by the end of the 
journey. 

But the missionary doctor who visits the Wahabis must 
be prepared for many hard words. Nothing but an off- 
cial invitation from the Great Chief, Ibn Saoud, makes 
such a visit safe. On one such trip we inquired the price 
of a kid from a caravan of these puritan “roundheads,”’ 
for we needed some fresh meat. They found out that it 
would give nourishment to a hated infidel, and informed 
us that a hundred dollars would not buy one. However, 
they came to the doctor in large numbers for all sorts 
of treatment. They do not shrink from surgery, show- 
ing rather a nerve and courage and when necessary an in- 
difference to pain that are magnificent. “Oh, Infidel,” 
shouts one of them as he enters, “where are you? I want 
some medicine.” When they come into the consultation 
room and submit to examination, they show at the same 
time a remarkable confidence in the doctor and a con- 
tempt for him religiously which form a rather astonish- 
ing combination. In time they come to make the best and 
most loyal of friends, but they are not to be approached 
except on the basis of an absolute equality, and it is a 
mistake either to patronize them or to fear them. The 
man who can restrain his temper when it tends to boil 
over at their epithets of contempt soon finds himself 
charmed by an independence and fearlessness that are 
hardly to be equalled elsewhere in the whole world. 

And once the Arab is won over to real friendship, he 
accepts even the infidel as one of his own kind and is loyal 
beyond measure. I remember, when we were taking a 
boat trip which was part of my language study program, 
that a strange Arab face appeared one day over the river 
bank, and gazed with considerable surprise at the unusual 





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FIRST IMPRESSIONS 13 


passenger the boat carried. “You there,” he cried in any- 
thing but a complimentary manner, “what do you mean 
by carrying that Christian around with you?” 

My personal servant and the boat captain were the only 
ones with me at the moment. One seized a large club, 
which was waiting to be used as firewood, and the other 
a short, heavy iron bar with which Arabs pound their 
coffee. They ran up the bank toward this man who had 
so grievously insulted their guest. The man held his 
ground pretty well, but they extorted some sort of satis- 
faction from him, and he finally left. 

I questioned them with some surprise when they re- 
turned. ‘‘What made you so angry with that man?” 

“He called you a Christian.” 

“Well, that is what I am.” 

“That is all right,” said the redoubtable warriors. “We 
know that you are a Christian, but he is not to call you 
one, not while we are around.”’ 

In the early days of the occupation of Kuwait as a mis- 
sion station, the medical work occupied a tumble-down 
Arab house. The door was never locked, so that those 
needing help could come in at all hours of the day or 
night. The doctor slept in the middle of the yard and 
was easily accessible. Early one morning, long before 
the sun was up, the doctor was awakened by some one 
pulling on his sleeve. Night calls are uncommon in 
Arabia and usually mean that something serious has 
happened. So the doctor woke up with great speed. A 
withered old Bedouin woman sat next to his bed, a 
woman with lines of privation and hardship on her face 
but with the charming frankness and kindliness of the 
Bedouin in her. voice. 

“Sahib,” she said, “Sahib, wake up.” 


14 THE ARAB AT HOME 


“Yes, my mother, I am awake. What is the trouble?” 
with visions of some shooting affray and a desperately 
wounded son dying somewhere in the city. 

“Sahib, lam sick. I want some medicine.” 

“Yes,” said the doctor, now quite awake and in posses- 
sion of his normal faculties. “What are you suffering 
from? We have plenty of medicine and are glad to help 
any one who needs it.” 

“T have a pain in my shoulder.” 

“And how long has this pain troubled you?” 

“Sahib,” replied the patient old woman, “it has both- 
ered me a long time, and I got tired of trying all sorts of 
medicines that the people of the tribe suggested, so I de- 
cided to come to you here. It is seven years since I 
first noticed it. We have been traveling for ten days 
to get here, and as soon as ever I arrived, I came straight 
here to you. I did not stop to arrange my camp or even 
foVoitch avtentia 

“You did rai right in coming Here right away,’ 
said the doctor, ‘‘and we are glad to see you. Will you 
be remaining in the city a few days?” 

“Oh, yes, we will be here two weeks probably.” 

“That will be good,” said the doctor. “It may require 
some time to give you relief. If you want to go and 
arrange your camp now, you will have plenty of time, 
and you can come afterwards to this house about eight 
o'clock in the morning and the medicine will be ready. 
It is now perhaps two hours before sunrise, so you can 
make yourself comfortable. There is plenty of medicine, 
and you need not hurry, for we will be here all day.”” So 
she went away delighted, and returned at the specified 
time for attention. It is a very keen pleasure to remem- 
ber that gentle old Bedouin woman, who gave us the 


FIRST IMPRESSIONS is) 


greatest of all compliments, that of assuming that we 
were one of her own kind. For if she had considered 
the doctor a stranger, she would have waited till day- 
light at least. Not many achievements of twelve years 
afford as much pleasure in retrospect as the belief that 
she is still of the same opinion. 

No one can learn to know the Arab in more than the 
most casual fashion without realizing how mistaken is 
our easy American self-sufficiency and our common as- 
sumption that all races are our inferiors that are back- 
ward in the arts of western civilization. Few races have 
the natural endowment of the Arab. Perhaps none sur- 
pass him. The outstanding task of our times is not the 
discovery and exploitation of the unused material re- 
sources of the world. The world is full of resources in- 
finitely more valuable than petroleum and iron and coal. 
In these sister races there are treasures of the human 
spirit and arts of human association capable of trans- 
forming our whole outlook on life and idealizing our 
whole social order. The world offers no adventure so 
splendid as the opportunity to share in their discovery 
and development. 


CHAT OE Rott 
THE BEDOUIN? OR GE HEME Ska 


HE traveler in Arabia is impressed first with the 
desolation of the landscape. The desert, which 
is the real home of the Arab, includes practically 

the whole of the peninsula except the two southern cor- 
ners and the western edge, where low mountain ranges 
take its place. It is for the most part a plateau rising to 
a height of some 2500 feet above the sea and more than 
that in its western part. It is not a uniform expanse of 
sand, as popular imagination pictures it. By far the 
greater part is rocky, and there is a certain amount of 
good arable soil. The feature that distinguishes the des- 
ert and gives it its particular characteristics is its aridity. 
During the winter and spring there may be as much as 
three to six inches of rainfall. For the remainder of the 
year there is none. 

Except in the spring, the country is parched and dry, 
a veritable abode of death, and it seems impossible that 
any living thing should exist in it. Unless he is fortu- 
nate enough to meet some wayfarer like himself, the trav- 
eler may be on the road for days without seeing a soul. 
The rocky plains stretch from horizon to horizon. 
Sometimes the landscape is dead flat; sometimes rolling 
as in our western prairies in the vicinity of a great river. 
For some hours the traveler from the Hasa oasis near 


the Persian Gulf coast to Riyadh in inland Arabia passes 
16 


SANNd ANVS 


IIN2AIS OJOYT ‘Mp O 








i. 





THE BEDOUIN OF THE DESERT = 17 


over a great rocky plain which is quite black. From a 
distance the imagination pictures it as an immense asphalt 
roof covering some inferno of heat underneath, but once 
reached it is found so solid that it seems rather as if 
the very framework of the earth has been upheaved to 
view. The crevices and irregularities are filled with yel- 
low sand which at times almost obliterates the black 
foundation underneath. 

The road will run for hours over rocky plains which 
resemble nothing so much as well harrowed fields in the 
spring after they are dried out, and the memory calls up 
pictures of fields in Nebraska where much the same color 
prevails with the same rolling surface to the landscape. 
Fancy sees this barren country similarly covered with lit- 
tle green cornstalks just coming up in fine neat rows, 
and the soil nice and black from a rain the night before. 

Such ideas are easier in the morning before the sun 
comes up, when the earth is still cool and the wonderful 
desert air, which is one of nature’s tonics, stimulates the 
mind to activity and the imagination to beautiful pictures. 
Later the sun appears and all these creations of the im- 
agination evaporate in its fierce heat. As it climbs higher 
and higher, the heat increases and the country no longer 
looks like a field in Nebraska waiting for a shower. It 
looks like just what it is, the valley of the shadow of 
death. The layer of air next to the ground is hotter than 
the layers above, and wherever one looks, the reflection 
of water is seen in the distance. When the air next to 
the earth has become as hot as this, small whirlwinds 
form easily, and several are in sight for most of the rest 
of the day. The day grows hotter and hotter; that water 
whose reflection seemed so natural proves as imaginary 
as the cornfields of the morning. The heat grows more 


18 THE ARAB AT HOME 


and more intense as noon approaches, till the light breeze 
that may spring up is like the breath of a furnace, and the 
surface of the ground becomes so hot that even the hard- 
ened feet of the Bedouins cannot endure it and they put 
on a sort of rough sandal to protect themselves as they 
walk. An egg can be cooked by putting it into the sand 
at noon. Only an emergency keeps an Arab traveling 
through the noon hours of a summer day in the desert. 

Certain parts of the desert are vast expanses of sand, 
quite according to the popular imagination. It is a yel- 
lowish, cream-colored sand, and it drifts into great dunes, 
fifty feet high or more. In the fresh morning these great 
cream-colored dunes, outlined against the blue sky, which 
is absolutely without a fleck or a cloud, afford a color 
scheme that would charm the most stolid. There is not 
an artificial line in the picture. It is God’s handiwork, 
unmarred by a single human element. In it is to be seen, 
clean and naked and beautiful, the omnipotence of God 
and His stern, silent beauty. His immutability is there 
and His strength and, above all, His greatness. “‘What 
is man, that Thou art mindful of him?” ‘That may bea 
man, that speck on the small yellow sand dune, miles to 
the left. The slightly larger speck with him is probably 
his camel. Yes, they are moving. It isa man. Fifty 
miles away perhaps there is another man, who knows? 
What is man when one stands in the presence of the 
omnipotent God, with the blue sky above, as clear and 
bright and pure as His own Holiness, and all around the 
great yellow desert, as inscrutable and resistless as His 
own will? 

The desert, terrible as it is, nevertheless has life in it. 
In the spring there is a little rain, perhaps an inch, per- 
haps as much as six inches. Vegetation appears, and in 


THE BEDOUIN OF THE DESERT § 19 


favored localities where the water has been collected by 
the rock formation, it persists for some weeks. Small 
scrubby bushes are found which grow a little each rainy 
spring and then apparently wait in a shriveled and dried- 
up condition for the next year’s rain. These attain 
sometimes to a height of several feet. There are even a 
few poor, miserable, stunted trees, which always appear 
half dead. They as well as the smaller plants are fre- 
quently covered with spines. 

It is a little surprising that the sandy districts have far 
more vegetation than the rocky stretches. On those sand 
dunes there is a considerable amount of vegetation. 
There are some remarkable plants in the Dahana, as the 
Arabs call the sandy desert of northcentral Arabia. They 
look like milkweeds, and have a milky sap. I have seen 
them as green and succulent as their relatives in America, 
standing on the top of a sand dune fifty feet high, and 
this in midsummer when the thermometer must have 
been over 125° every noon. A very few of the smaller 
plants, too, retain something of their greenness and fresh- 
ness even in the awful Arabian summer, but the great 
majority dry down to a fodder that could not be made 
drier if it were put through a kiln. 

Perhaps an even more astonishing thing is that a 
number of animals manage to live in that terrible coun- 
try. There is no water within their reach; at least there 
is none within human reach for fifty or a hundred miles 
in any direction. The animals are even worse off than 
human beings, for they cannot dig down fifty feet or 
more to get a drink out of a well. Yet there are gazelles 
in the Dahana, large numbers of them. Traveling in 
midsummer one sees them frequently, occasionally in 
flocks of some dozens. There are lizards of various sizes 


20 THE ARAB AT HOME 


to be seen all along the way. One large variety is about 
a foot and a half long, and its meat is esteemed a great 
delicacy by the Bedouins; who call it “the fish of the des- 
ert.’ Many smaller lizards are found, and a few birds. 
There are also tracks of a wolf to be made out occasion- 
ally, but that is a rare occurrence, as is also the sign of a 
fox. The lizards may be able to dig down far enough 
in their holes to reach damp soil, but certainly the gazelles 
must get their necessary water from the few plants that 
remain succulent and fresh in the summer months. 

And there are people who live in that desert, not trav- 
elers only, but permanent residents. They live there not 
merely during the spring when there is a little rain, but the 
year around. How can men live in a country like that? 
The well is the answer. The little green vegetation to be 
seen in the spring when the meager rains come soon dries 
down, and the inexperienced eye of the stranger would 
scarcely find it. Nevertheless, it is sufficient for goats 
and camels and perhaps sheep to graze upon if wells 
can be found in addition where they can be watered every 
evening. So it happens that the most precious things in 
Arabia are the wells. Caravan routes may be crooked, 
but the reason is never far to seek. For three or four 
days camels can travel without a drop of water, but 
eventually they must drink like all the other animals in 
the world. Some parts of the desert which are richest 
in vegetation are quite deserted as far as human beings 
are concerned, and the reason is the same. In the sum- 
mer when the thermometer may occasionally reach 135 ° 
at noon, it is no use to discover an area covered with 
abundant dry fodder. It is the well that is the essential 
thing. Wherever water can be secured, there men 
can live. It is not such a life as would be popular in 








@ Underwood & Underwooa 
BEDOUINS IN THE DESERT 





THE BEDOUIN’ OF THE DESERT © 21 


America, but men live, and women live, and children live 
there, and love their desert with an unparalleled devo- 
tion. Transplanted to a real garden spot of the earth, 
they weep for a glimpse of their beloved desert. 

The love of the desert is a very deep and a very beau- 
tiful thing. or political purposes one of these desert 
chiefs was urged to give up his residence in the open and 
arid desert and come to live in the town. The greater 
comfort and luxury to be found in the town were pointed 
out to him as contrasted with the hardships and loneliness 
of the desert; but the old chief did not see it that way. 
“In the town,” said he, “I have no doubt that I shall find 
all the things which you describe, but out here in the 
desert I have my family and my goats, great distances, 
and God.” 

In such a country only one type of life is possible, and 
that is the Bedouin type. Some knowledge of the Bed- 
ouin, his environment and its effect upon him is funda- 
mental in any. effort to understand the Arab. The no- 
mad tribe is probably the basis from which the other 
types of Arab life have been developed historically, and 
these other types can be most easily understood today if 
studied in connection with the simpler organization of 
the desert. The most conspicuous difference from our 
own society lies perhaps in the fact that all members of 
the community do the same thing. Some are more ener- 
getic than others, arid on that account own larger herds 
of camels and larger flocks of goats or sheep, but the oc- 
cupation of all is the same, and the standards of life differ 
very little. 

The Bedouins are divided into tribes, and the larger 
tribes into sub-tribes. These tribes of Arabia are “com- 
munities of will,’ to use H. G. Wells’ phrase, and the in- 


22 THE ARAB AT HOME 


dividual Arab is free to transfer his allegiance to another 
chieftain if he so desires. Such a transfer quite fre- 
quently takes place. In a loose general way each tribe 
has certain areas over which it grazes its camels and its 
goats and sheep. In proportion to the number of animals 
the area covered is enormous, for throughout the hot, dry 
summer months locations must be frequently changed 
and new pastures found. The prosperity of the desert 
Arab, poor as it is at the best, depends on a rainfall so 
scanty that one marvels at the existence of any life at all. 
There are whole districts, like the Great Southern Desert 
and the black plain encountered between Hasa and Riyadh, 
where not even the hardiest Bedouin attempts to live. In 
winter the temperature goes down so low that frost is 
seen, and in the summer the country glows with heat like 
a furnace. No mineral resources are known at present, 
and there is no reason to suppose that the most careful 
scientific search would find any. 

Bedouins who live in the desert own a certain number 
of camels, and turn them out to graze over large areas. 
Camels require little water and can go for three days, if 
necessary, without a drink, an ability which adds enor- 
mously to their value in a country where it is frequently 
necessary to travel scores of miles to find a well. The 
camel is the one support of Bedouin life. Camel’s milk is 
the principal article of diet, with a few dates for a des- 
sert and camel’s meat as an addition for feasts and high 
days. The hair of the camel furnishes clothes, and his 
back affords the only method of transportation possible 
in the desert. Indeed the Arab looks on the camel as 
God’s special gift to the desert nomad, and he is not far 
mistaken. 

Where wells are somewhat close together and the for- 


JHE BEDOUIN OF THE DESERT 23 


age of the country allows it, goats can be kept, but these 
must be watered at least once a day. They furnish hair 
for tent-cloth, and thus it is the goat that shelters the 
Bedouin from the elements. In districts where forage 
and water are still more abundant, sheep are raised, 
chiefly for their wool or as articles of export. Mutton is 
the favorite meat all over Arabia, and although for a les- 
ser occasion goats or camels may answer, when a great 
sheikh gives a feast, sheep are the animals slaughtered. 

Much has been written, and justly, about the beauty 
and the endurance of Arabian horses, but they are not an 
economic asset. In Central Arabia a horse is a pure lux- 
ury. Often in summer they must live on camel’s milk 
just as humans do. They are kept and treated as house- 
hold pets and are very intelligent and affectionate. Their 
only function is to furnish an aristocratic mount for 
pleasure, for state occasions and for war. During part 
of the year there is abundant pasturage for them, but 
they are a luxury afforded only by the sheikhs and the 
very rich and their number is small. 

There are years in Arabia when the spring rains fail 
partially or completely, and then the animals die by thou- 
sands, or are driven to the nearest town to be sold for a 
song. In such years starvation stalks abroad through the 
land. Little children die because there is no food suit- 
able for such tender stomachs, and the adults are even 
more gaunt and thin than usual. The sheikhs are nearly 
bankrupted by the number of poor they have to feed, 
and the whole community waits and prays for more rain 
the coming spring. 

At the best the life of a desert Bedouin is one of a 
poverty so bitter and deep that Westerners have little idea 
of it. The entire outfit of a family could be bought fora 


24 THE ARAB AT HOME 


mere trifle. Probably the only part of the outfit that 
would have any commercial value at all is the black goat’s- 
hair tent, which affords a poor shelter from the cold in 
winter and from the heat in summer. And along with 
extreme poverty there goes an astonishing lack of any 
sense of cleanliness or order. The tent of a Bedouin 
could be little more disorderly if it were taken by some 
giant hand, shaken like a dice box, and the contents al- 
lowed to rest where they fell. The furniture consists of 
few things and poor. There are the remnants of one or 
more cotton stuffed quilts. These are both bed and bed 
clothes. There are a few skins to hold drinking water 
and a few skin basins. Some shaped sticks are tied to- 
gether to make camel saddles. The outfit will also in- 
clude a copper kettle for the cooking of food, a battered 
coffee pot for the making of coffee and usually a wooden 
bowl. This bowl, which may be the only eating utensil 
belonging to the household, has probably never been 
washed in its history. At times milk is drunk out of it, 
and at times rice and meat are eaten from it. The grease 
with which it is covered has long since exceeded the 
absorption limit of the wood and for years has been 
plastered on to the outside. Under such circumstances 
the prevalence of disease excites no wonder; the wonder 
is that many maintain excellent health. 

The Bedouins clothes are a loin cloth beneath and 
shirt above, which shirt resembles a loose nightgown 
and reaches to his ankles. Over this is worn an old dis- 
reputable aba or cloak, in cut resembling nothing so much 
as a college gown. All of these are usually in a state of 
great disrepair and show an acute need of laundering. 
The town Arabs, who look with scorn on the desert Bed- 
ouin, assert that when he buys a new undershirt, he puts 


SNINOGAE 








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me 
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Vd ; ; i, 
7 pi ds 
¥ Fi i) 
ae ree 
AS 
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i 
Fag 
ae 
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, 
x 
i 
:~ 
J ‘ 
“ 
‘ 
a - 
g = &Y 
: oe ene 
- - ' Oe - ig 


of 


ie a 





THE BEDOUIN OF THE DESERT 25 


it on over his old one, and since none of his garments are 
ever removed, the older garment gradually falls to pieces 
and after a while disappears altogether. This story, like 
much of the fiction of the world, though not strictly ac- 
curate is based on painful truth, for baths are not so fre- 
quent in the Bedouin’s life as they should be, and the 
laundering of clothes is still less adequate. 

But it is easy to blame the Bedouin for being dirty. 
Dirty he certainly is and his clothes even more so, but 
what is to be expected when water is so scarce that for 
lack of it animals frequently go thirsty, and sometimes 
even men? We forget that cleanliness is a luxury, and 
a very expensive luxury at that. Through the summer 
the Bedouin women wash their hair in camel’s urine be- 
cause water is so precious that it cannot be wasted for 
such a purpose. The men apparently go without wash- 
ing. Clothes require no comment, for their condition is 
what might be imagined. By far the commonest hunt- 
ing in Arabia is the hunt for wild game in the hair and 
clothes. It is always successful. The ablutions required 
before prayers are commonly performed with sand. The 
delight of such people upon arriving at some place where 
water is abundant and where bodies and clothes can be 
washed is a good thing to see. 

The diet of these desert Arabs is ordinarily very 
frugal. A drink of camel’s milk and a handful of dates 
are a day ’s rations for an adult, and more is not expected. 
There will also be an occasional drink of coffee, of which 
the Bedouin is inordinately fond. Even the poorest Bed- 
ouin tent will have some sort of a battered and worn 
coffee pot for this purpose. Bread is a rare luxury in 
such homes, and meat even a rarer one. A feeble old 
camel on the verge of dissolution will render a last service 


26 THE ARAB AT HOME 


to his masters in making possible a feast and a taste of 
meat for a large number. From‘camel’s milk is made a 
sort of cottage cheese which is kneaded into little cakes 
much the shape and size of children’s mud pies. These 
are plentifully mixed with hair in the process of manufac- 
ture and are baked in the sun almost to the consistency 
of bricks. They will keep indefinitely and form a savory 
addition to the diet in time of scarcity. 

Occasionally the Bedouin will capture a dhabb, or 
armored lizard, and rejoice exceedingly at the kindness 
of Providence. Or he may succeed in catching a desert 
rat, or jerboa. In either case there will be meat to eat 
that night. On rarer occasions he may succeed in shoot- 
ing a gazelle, and then there will be a real feast in his 
tent. But even at the best there is probably no community 
in the world that lives constantly so close to the starvation 
line as the Bedouin. 

As a host, however, the Bedouin has no peer. The un- 
affected joy that is shown at the opportunity of entertain- 
ing a guest may well serve as a model for those of us who 
come from the more practical and unfriendly West. To 
sit in a Bedouin’s tent and enjoy his hospitality is a 
pleasure to be remembered, even if the small amount of 
meat served with the rice be so tough that biting a 
piece in two is impossible, to say nothing of chewing it 
properly. 

The very poor may sometimes flee from the demands 
of hospitality, but once asked they may not deny enter- 
tainment to any one. In the desert the desperately poor 
Bedouins avoid settling in the region of a recognized 
caravan track. ‘To be compelled to entertain many guests 
would almost mean starvation for them, but they never 
refuse if a guest appears. The only alternative is to re- 


THE BEDOUIN OF THE DESERT 27 


main away from regions where guests are likely to be 
numerous. The road between Hofuf, the capital of 
Hasa, and Ogair, its nearest port, affords excellent 
pasturage for goats and camels, and water is easily avail- 
able for watering the stock. The traveler, however, will 
probably not see so much as one tent in that whole region. 
Caravans are coming and going continually, and the poor 
Bedouin cannot possibly entertain so many. Stern ne- 
cessity compels him to go where the demands on his very 
slender resources will be smaller. 

But the finest hospitality that I have ever enjoyed has 
been at the hands of the Bedouins. Ten years ago in the 
vicinity of Kuwait we saw a good deal of them, for there 
is always a fringe of Bedouin tents surrounding that city. 
The American missionaries were far from welcome in 
the town. A rival Turkish doctor had been imported by 
a local Mohammedan society and stocked with medicines 
and instruments so the poor might be treated free and 
every excuse for visiting the missionary’s establishment 
removed. But there was no trace of hostility among the 
Bedouins and it was a great pleasure to visit their tents. 
We had a number of patients there and had to visit them 
often. When the dressings and treatments were finished, 
we stayed and visited together. There were questions 
about America, and the way to come from there to Ara- 
bia, and I in my turn learned a great deal about them and 
their utterly poverty-stricken lives. The way in which 
the medical missionary was admitted to the circle as one 
of the family is perhaps the most prized memory that 
twelve years’ experience affords. 

In the calendar of the desert the real red letter days 
are those when a wedding in the sheikh’s family or some 
other event is the occasion for a great feast. Every 


28 THE ARAB AT HOME 


one 1s invited, and the half-starved Bedouin, who has per- 
haps not had a full meal for months, makes such use 
of his opportunities as seems incredible to a student of 
anatomy. our hungry Bedouins are supposed to be able 
to eat a whole roasted sheep at one sitting, and I am sure 
that I have seen many such a Bedouin company that 
would be equal to the task. An Arab feast is an interest- 
ing sight. A whole sheep must be cooked for any hon- 
ored guest, even if he has only one or two attendants. 
This animal, cooked as he frequently is in one piece, is 
placed on a huge copper platter and buried in a mountain 
of boiled rice. Out of the sides of this mountain, which 
would measure several bushels in bulk and which stands 
perhaps four feet high, are to be seen protruding the am- 
putated stumps of the animal’s four limbs. This enor- 
mous central dish is flanked by various side dishes con- 
taining gravies and a few vegetables. Vegetables, how- 
ever, are few in number and scanty in amount. The 
proportion of cooking fat put on the rice is an index 
of the cordiality of the guest’s welcome. There is quite 
certain to be several times the amount that a western pal- 
ate enjoys. Around this mountain of food with its foot- 
hills of side dishes the guests seat themselves, all on the 
floor. The signal is given by the host’s remarking, “In 
the name of God.” There follows a mad race against 
time, for when one guest arises, all must follow his ex- 
ample. Obviously, then, the affair of the moment is to 
see that in the short time available as much as possible of 
God’s blessings shall be appropriated. The meat is torn 
off in quarter-pound chunks. Such a piece is put into 
the mouth, bitten in two and swallowed, if indeed it is 
treated with so much ceremony. ‘The rice is gathered up 
in great handfuls and poured down the esophagus, ap- 


THE BEDOUIN OF THE DESERT = 29 


parently meeting with no great obstacle on the way. In 
five minutes everybody is filled to repletion. Pounds of 
meat have been consumed and bushels of rice. The side 
dishes are empty. Enormous wooden bowls of butter- 
milk are brought in and the meal washed down with great 
draughts of this favorite Arab drink. It is not remark- 
able that after a feast everybody expects to take a nap. 
So ends the festivity and the Bedouin settles down once 
again to his meager and poverty-stricken existence in 
the desert. 

Life as a nomad shepherd brings the Bedouin into 
naked and constant contact with nature. He is out of 
doors almost all of the time, and his tent with its rents 
and holes hardly serves to separate him from the outside 
world to any significant degree even when he is inside. 
The sun over him by day and the moon and stars by 
night, the long stretches of sand and the rough rocky 
plains, the sand storms which are the terror of the des- 
ert, the fierce heat of the summer and the frosts of the 
winter, all of these are his constant companions. He 
learns to know the wilderness as few know it. The 
tracks of the various animals in the sand are to him an 
easily legible history of the happenings of several days 
back. Thus he lives not simply in contact with nature 
but rather immersed in it. The desert may be cruel, but 
he pines away if transplanted. His life may be hard, 
but he wants nothing else. 

Yet strangely enough, in spite of his intense love for 
the desert and its freedom, all the beauties in nature 
around him fall on blind eyes as far as the Bedouin is 
concerned. Even the desert sunset and the moon-lit 
sand dunes apparently stir no responsive chord in his 
heart. It is as if all such things had been stripped off 


30 THE ARAB AT HOME 


and cast away as useless encumbrances in the stern fight 
for life. He is the victim of his environment in that 
he suffers so desperately from poverty and want. His 
clothes hang in tatters and rags; his tent is cold in winter 
and hot in summer; his food is reduced nearly to the 
limit of bare subsistence. Most of his children die be- 
cause of the unsuitable food, the hard conditions of life 
and the ignorance of the parents. The dirt and disorder 
in which he lives beggar description. Out of this soil 
springs one of the freest and most unconquerable spirits 
in the world, but even so it is impossible to believe that 
its finest development is attainable under such handicaps. 
The terrible thing is not that the condition in which he 
lives distresses his sensitive spirit, but precisely that it 
does not distress him at all. The Bedouin may claim to 
have conquered poverty. He stands forth uncrushed by 
its heaviest load, but his indomitable spirit has neverthe- 
less paid a price, and a heavy price, for that victory. 
Bedouin life, however, in spite of this terrible poverty 
and lack of the amenities that we are accustomed to re- 
gard as necessary even to existence, has in it many char- 
acteristics that we of the luxurious and effete West might 
emulate with benefit. Throughout the earth and almost 
throughout history, men have dreamed of equality. 
France ran with blood a hundred and thirty years ago be- 
cause of man’s search for it. Russia is red with the same 
struggle now. Men talk about it and dream about it 
wherever men see visions and dream dreams. In inland 
Arabia men practise it, and there is a charm in the dirty, 
poverty-cursed, arid desert that will be searched for in 
vain throughout the pampered and self-satisfied world 
outside. His sense of equality with all the world is the 
breath of life to a nomad Arab, and his spirit stands 


NAWOM NINOCHa 














Con BEDOUIN OFVDHE DESERT ) (31 


forth scornfully triumphant over the worst that environ- 
ment can do to him. There is no division of labor in the 
desert. Every man has the same occupation and is pur- 
sued by the same gaunt specter of starvation. Every 
man breathes the same atmosphere of the great free des- 
ert and shares the same conceptions of God and His 
terrible omnipotence. How could men be otherwise than 
equal when they all live in the same desert and worship 
the same God? The hypocrisies and pretenses of caste 
and rank cannot live long in that country where God is so 
great and so terrible and so omnipotent and where men 
at the best are helpless insects in His hands. 

The Arab is perhaps the most incorrigible individual- 
ist that the world affords. He regards any abridgement 
of his liberty as intolerable. His desert is a land of 
freedom. Everybody does what is right in his own eyes 
with perhaps less restraint than anywhere else in the 
world. To one who is familiar with the Orient, perhaps 
the most significant fact to be noted in Arab society 
is the complete absence of the caste system. The Arab 
knows nothing about caste. His sheikh, who has the 
power of life and death over him, the Bedouin regards as 
on precisely his own level. He expects this sheikh to rule 
well, to have a heavy hand for offenders, to maintain rela- 
tions with neighboring tribes, to protect the poor from the 
rapacity of the rich. If the sheikh does not do all these 
things, he will join cheerfully with his comrades in 
assassinating him and will submit with equal cheerfulness 
to whomsoever may be his successor. He would be not 
at all nonplussed if asked to be ruler himself; quite pos- 
sibly he might fill the office with credit. All this he 
knows, as does his sheikh. The result is a society where 
there is almost no feeling of superiority and inferiority, 


32 THE ARAB AT HOME 


but rather an unaffected equality among all members of 
the community and a good fellowship and free associa- 
tion on that basis which is one of the most beautiful 
things in the world. The women share this freedom, and 
are engaged with the men in practically every activity that 
is useful in keeping the wolf from the door. Men and 
women fight side by side for a naked existence, and there 
is no submission to anything or anybody, except to God 
above. 

It is a hard life, but the desert is a maker of men. 
Women may express their feelings, their joys and their 
griefs, but men are expected to remain silent and self- 
controlled, and magnificent Stoics some of them are. An 
old patriarch came to the Bahrein Hospital bringing for 
treatment his only son, the pride of his life and the joy 
of his heart. They had come a long distance, two weeks’ 
journey. The old man had the light of a father’s pride 
in his eye and the shadow of a father’s anxiety was there, 
too. 

“My boy has been sick for some time. I have brought 
him here for you to cure.” 

My heart sank at the boy’s appearance. ‘‘Does he 
cough ?”’ : 

“Yes, he coughs a great deal. That is the trouble.” 

“Does he cough up any blood?” 

“Yes, he has done that several times.” 

It gave me almost the sensation of physical faintness 
that one feels when in an elevator that is shot down 
rapidly, to see that fine old man standing there and to 
know what we would have to tell him, but we examined 
the boy carefully first. There were large cavities in both 
lungs. He was far beyond all hope. The whole faculty 
of Johns Hopkins could not have helped him. “My 


THE BEDOUINT OR THE DESERT» /33 


father,’ I said, “I have no medicine that will do the boy 
any good.” 

It was easy to see that the reply was not entirely un- 
expected, but already I talked to a different man. “Is 
there perhaps some operation you can perform for him?” 
asked the old man slowly and gravely. “We have heard 
that you do many marvelous things by means of the 
knife.” 

“My father, it is quite true that we operate here on 
many people and use the knife a great deal, but there is 
no operation that will do him any good either.” 

“Then,” said the father, “‘will he die?” 

“Yes, he will die. He has only a few days or months 
at the outside. No doctor can do him any good. He is 
in the hands of God.” 

“Yes,” said the old man quietly. “Praise the Lord 
anyway,’ and he turned to leave, a bent and pitiful old 
man. The light had died out of his eyes, and the spring 
had gone from his steps; he was the picture of broken 
grief, but there was not a tear nor a complaint, nor did 
his steady eyes waver as he looked straight into my own. 
We tried to get him to stay for a few days and rest be- 
fore starting on the return journey, but his reply was 
simple and final. “No,” he said, “we appreciate your 
hospitality, but the boy would rather die in his own coun- 
try with his mother.” 

By far the most beautiful family life in Arabia is found 
among the Bedouins. Poverty enforces a monogamy 
which their religion does not require, and as might be 
expected, divorce is less common and the whole atmos- 
phere of society infinitely cleaner than in other Arab com- 
munities. Often a family life is found that is very 
beautiful. The loyalty of the various members of such 


34 THE ARAB AT HOME 


a family to each other, the way that old and feeble mem- 
bers of a previous generation are cared for without ques- 
tion or complaint, the unquenchable cheerfulness that no 
misfortune or discomfort can dampen, are a pleasure to 
recall. The same poverty that makes polygamy impos- 
sible forces the women to be partners in all the activities 
of the household. There are no secluded women in this 
community, and the result is a comradeship and mutual 
helpfulness and unashamed love between a man and his 
wife that are beautiful to see. They share the same pov- 
erty and the same hardships. Together they watch prob- 
ably two-thirds of the children that come into the home 
sicken and die. Bedouin families are not large, but that 
is not because the number of children born is small. 
Bedouin women also follow their husbands in war and 
manage the commissary department. In times of neces- 
sity they take up weapons themselves and fight. 

As might be expected, the standards of morals are far 
higher than in other parts of Arabia. An unaccompanied 
girl caring for her sheep out in the desert is safe in that 
country of poverty and equality, of freedom and sim- 
plicity. We came from Abu Jifan once, a whole caravan 
of us, to Hasa, a distance of three days’ journey, and 
from among the Bedouins that were congregated in the 
neighborhood of the wells of Abu Jifan a girl came 
along to Hasa for treatment. She rode at a distance of 
half a mile from our caravan all the distance to Hasa and 
encamped by herself each of the three nights that we were 
out. Not all of the men of our caravan were Bedouins. 
Some were townsmen, and camel-men at that, with talk 
as foul as might be expected from birds of passage of 
that variety. The first night there was some remark 
about the girl off there by herself, the exact import of 


THE BEDOUIN OF THE DESERT 35 


which I was glad not to understand, but one of the 
Bedouin youngsters who were with us flared back at the 
townsman with remarks that reduced him immediately to 
unconditional surrender. Every noon and every night 
the boy took her some of our rice and bread, and she 
accompanied this men’s caravan, entirely alone, till we 
arrived in the city. JI remember that same boy’s earnest 
and simple cordiality as he congratulated one of his warm 
friends on her recent marriage. “May God increase your 
prosperity, your camels and your children.” 

It is interesting to observe the fundamental economic 
conceptions in a community as primitive as that of the 
desert. Contracts are sacred in Arabia, as in the West. 
The guest and his host are bound by a contract the terms 
of which are perfectly understood by both parties and 
are practically never violated. Many of these Bedouins 
enter into contracts to dive at the opening of the diving 
season in Bahrein, and one never hears of such a contract 
being broken. There is little occasion for the making of 
contracts in the desert, but even at the price of personal 
loss, a contract entered into in good faith must be carried 
out. 

The Bedouin’s conception of property, however, differs 
from ours considerably. To say that it is communistic 
is to exaggerate, but there is certainly a stronge tinge of 
communism about it. Property, that is to say what the 
earth affords in the way of food, shelter and clothes, is 
of value because it sustains human life. The food, the 
clothes and the houses that the Bedouin’s world can pro- 
duce, are never enough to go around. He considers them 
valuable simply as they minister to human need. In the 
oases property comes to be regarded as sacred, much as 
it is in the West. Beautiful houses are admired and 


36 THE ARAB AT HOME 


luxury and display have a certain number of devotees. 
In the desert the viewpoint is very different. Human 
needs and rights are always and in all circumstances 
the most important thing and property rights are always 

subordinate to them. More than that, it follows that 
~ no one, whatever his station, is entitled to more than he 
_ needs of the scanty supply of food, clothing and shelter 
which the world affords until every one else has had 
all that he needs. Concerning the surplus over and 
above the subsistence requirements of the community the 
Arab has no definite convictions, but the man who desires 
to live in wasteful luxury, or who hoards wealth while 
his fellow tribesmen starve, may expect to be sent down 
very promptly to the eternal fire to roast where he be- 
longs. It is on this foundation that the obligations of 
hospitality are built. The traveler is a man in need— 
in need of shelter and of food. The mere fact that he 
has no money to pay for these does not modify the situa- 
tion in the slightest degree. His need, in and of it- 
self, establishes his host’s obligation to feed him. No 
possible notion of private ownership can in the Bed- 
ouin mind establish the right of the householder to 
his surplus so long as a hungry guest remains to be 
fed. 

Land in the desert is free as the air. It is practically 
worthless in its sterile aridity, and there is nothing sur- 
prising in the fact that private ownership has not at- 
tempted to control it. Live stock is owned individually. 
This type of property, however, occupies a peculiar posi- 
tion. Animals are privately owned, but they are the 
object of never-ending raids, and property rights in them 
are almost as far removed from our notion of private 
property as from communism itself. Live stock remains 


iLHE BEDOUIN OF THE DESERT = 37 


the property of the owner as long as he can keep others 
from carrying it off and no longer. These raids are not 
theft in the Arab mind. The spirit is much like that of 
a game of football, where by craft or by superior power 
one side takes the ball from the other. The Bedouins 
are real sportsmen and take their losses with extraor- 
dinary equanimity. They hope to recoup themselves the 
next time and then possibly be richer than ever, for a 
time at least. 

Two brothers came to the Mission Hospital in 
Kuwait a number of years ago, one of whom had been 
shot in a raid years before and suffered greatly as a re- 
sult. It required many operations to cure him, but af- 
ter a stay of perhaps five months he went home quite re- 
lieved. The sick man’s brother took care of him with 
a steadfast optimism that was past praise. The wounded 
man was without property, whereas his loyal brother was 
a man of some wealth, but that made not the slightest 
difference. 

One day, after they had spent perhaps four months 
with us, I spoke to the man about it. ‘‘You have been 
here,’ I said, ‘for some time now, and I understand that 
in your country you own considerable property.” 

“Yes,” he said, “I am not altogether poor, though I 
have no great arnount. It is mostly goats and camels, 
with a little household property.” 

“Well,” I said, “are you not afraid that while you are 
away, your district may be raided and all that property 
taken? You have been here four months now and it 
will be some time still before you can leave.”’ 

“Oh,” he replied, with a fine example of a Bedouin grin 
spreading over his face, “it has probably all been stolen 
by this time.” 


38 THE ARAB AT HOME 


“Well,” I persisted, “the matter does not seem to 
trouble you a great deal.” 

“No indeed,” with an even broader grin if that were 
possible. “It does not trouble me at all. Just as soon 
as I get out of here, I will go and steal somebody else’s. 
Who knows? Perhaps I may have more than I had 
before.” 

The tribal fights that keep the country in a continual 
state of turmoil are little more than glorified raids for the 
sake of plunder. ‘They intensify the poverty of the com- 
munity, for legitimate trade is handicapped, and this ir- 
regular exchange of goods cannot in the nature of the 
case benefit the whole society, however much it may 
temporarily enrich individuals. But life without the ex- 
citement of these raids seems to the desert nomad a tame 
and a stale thing, hardly worth living. On the other 
hand, personal property, such as is kept in tents, is as 
sacredly individual as it is with us, and its theft is keenly 
resented. The conception that every man’s home is his 
castle is one of the most fundamental ideas of the Arab, 
and when the crew of a gunboat many years ago attempted 
to search the inner quarters of a house in Dibai for fire- 
arms, the resulting indignation was so intense that for- 
eigners found themselves unable to enter that district for 
nearly ten years. The household belongings that the 
Bedouin keeps in his tent may be poor things but they are 
very much his own. 

This life of the desert, with its poverty and hardships 
and its primitive economic conditions, has nevertheless 
so worked its charm on the Bedouin nomad that he longs 
for nothing else. The Bedouin with his intense indi- 
vidualism seems particularly adapted to the desert. He 
loves its vast distances and its solitude. Anything less 


THE BEDOUIN OF THE DESERT = 39 


spacious chafes his spirit and he looks with contempt and 
pity on the poor creatures that are willing to spend their 
days in the narrow confines of a town. This pity is for 
the cultivator and equally for the land-owner and the 
merchant, who so far worship their bodies that they will 
swathe them in silk and deck them with gold, a thing 
permissible for women, but contemptible fora man. ‘The 
hardest work of the desert Arab is concerned with 
leading his flocks and with breaking up and repitching 
camp. Asa result, he develops a great distaste for man- 
ual labor. He regards it as degrading, and no small 
amount of his dislike for life in a town rests on that 
fact. Digging up the ground, patiently caring for plants 
and crops, and all the work of the agriculturist he looks 
on as beneath him. Free men were created for something 
better than that. 

It is the impression of a stranger to the country that 
not a blade of grass or a single date palm could be raised 
in all Arabia except in the oases where the gardeners 
work. The Arabs tell us that this is far from the truth. 
There are many places where water can be found close 
to the surface and where gardening could be carried on 
profitably. In connection with the Akhwan movement 
of puritan Wahabi Mohammedanism that has swept over 
all inland Arabia in the last few years, one of the efforts 
of the leaders has been to settle a certain number of the 
new converts in towns and villages. Altogether some 
sixty-five new settlements have been started since the 
inception of the movement. Doubtless most of these are 
very small, but there are a few of considerable size, 
and two or three are small cities of perhaps five thou- 
sand inhabitants. The Arabs insist that there are many 
other such places, where communities might spring up 


40 THE ARAB AT HOME 


if the Bedouins were willing to settle down to that sort 
of existence. 

But the Bedouin, even though he knows of these places, 
does not care to give up his free desert life for the hard 
and disagreeable labor of the towns. He is faithful to 
his camels, and to his goats and sheep if he is fortunate 
enough to have them. He loves these animals and not 
one of them lacks a personal name. The little lambs and 
kids will be carried in his arms when the road is rocky 
or steep. The work of a cultivator, however, he hates, 
and he will nearly starve before descending to such a level 
as to engage in it. He looks down upon the townsmen 
with a lofty scorn and thinks of their hard labor as un- 
worthy of men, fit rather for animals. This remarkable 
man regards himself as heaven’s favorite, and he exhibits 
a contempt for the rest of the world and a satisfaction 
with himself and his life that would be sublime if they 
were not terribly pathetic. 

Yet far from being ridiculous this Bedouin of the des- 
ert is one of the most splendid figures of our time. Out 
of that fearful poverty which amounts to constant semi- 
starvation, out of a lack of cleanliness that is continual 
degradation of the spirit, out of an isolation and an ig- 
norance that make him a provincial in spite of himself, 
he stands as the world’s supreme example of that Liberty, 
Equality and Fraternity that have been the dream of 
the ages. Tied down and limited by the lack of all ma- 
terial things, his spirit looks on them with indifference 
and cheerful contempt and pines away only when im- 
mersed in the obese and self-satisfied materialism of the 
town. He rises triumphant over his environment by 
the sheer strength of his spirit. Ignorant of all the wis- 


iTHE BEDOUIN OF THE DESERT 41 


dom of books, he has attained to that supreme wisdom 
which is a secret hidden from most schoolmen. He has 
learned that the world and all its material blessings are 
trifles compared to the things of the spirit; that the only 
things that are important for us to know are how to wor- 
ship God and how to associate with our fellow men. 

It is by the things of the spirit that the Bedouin lives. 
Take him away from his beloved desert with its poverty 
and death, its aridity and loneliness, and he will languish 
although his stomach may be full and his bed soft. Let 
him breathe the air of the desert’s freedom and equality 
and hospitality, and his cheerfulness is unquenchable, 
even though his belt is tightened because of hunger and 
his flocks and herds are dying of thirst. The Bedouin’s 
cheerfulness in the face of adversity is a proverb. His 
happy-go-lucky spirit bows to the pressure of no adverse 
material conditions whatever. Perhaps it is because he 
has so few of the various luxuries of this world to en- 
joy that he looks on them with such great contempt. 
Doubtless also his poverty has much to do with the em- 
phasis he puts upon the things of the next world as com- 
pared to the affairs of this one. His hopes are centered 
the other side of the grave. To the Bedouin God 1s 
actually the greatest reality in the universe, and the great- 
est task of life is to please Him. Few men anywhere in 
the world consider their religion a matter of such vital 
moment as do the Sunnis, or orthodox Mohammedans, of 
the Arabian desert, particularly in the inland regions 
which have been shaken recently by the great Akhwan 
revival. We shall have occasion in later chapters to dis- 
cuss the religious conceptions and practices of the Arab 
in more detail, but no description of desert life would be 


42 THE ARAB AT HOME 


complete without at least an indication of the tremendous 
significance of his religion in the life of the desert 
nomad. 

If the Bedouin were a symbol-loving Oriental, he would 
worship the desert. Being rather a practical and ma- 
terialistic Semitic, he worships the God of the desert. 
Mohammedanism is little more than the Bedouin mind 
projected into the realm of religion. The Arab faces 
God as he faces the desert. Here is a vast omnipotent 
environment, which rules his life and which reduces him 
to insignificance and even nothingness in comparison. 
By conformity to its laws he hopes to live, and as a usual 
thing he can. But there is an element of caprice about 
the desert which makes it at times utterly cruel and ruth- 
less, and from that ruthlessness no amount of humble 
acquiescence or of vigilant effort will save him. This is 
exactly the picture of the Moslem God. Unlimited om- 
nipotence, governed as a usual thing by law, and usually 
rewarding obedience with His favor, He is still tinged 
with unaccountable and unpredictable caprice, and is es- 
sentially pitiless in His power and magnificence. It is 
the image and superscription of the desert. Long before 
Mohammed wrote this picture of God into the Koran, 
God Himself created it in the desert, and so stamped it 
on the Bedouin’s heart. It is because Islam contains that 
picture that it has marched victoriously through thirteen 
centuries and faces the chaotic modern world with its 
pride and power still unbroken. 


GEAR TE Re LT 


THECOASTS ‘COMMUNITY 


HROUGHOUT the desert, wherever sufficient 
water can be found for irrigation, there we have 
annoasicn\ SOllle are On large sizeunv linen btasa 
oasis, the largest in Arabia, is an irregular strip of land 
twenty miles long and half as broad situated about forty 
miles inland in the district of Hasa on the East Coast. It 
is thickly scattered over with wells and gardens. Prob- 
ably a hundred thousand Arabs live there, about thirty 
thousand of them concentrated in the capital city of 
Hofuf. An oasis is a beautiful thing, standing out green 
and fresh in the midst of the parched and desolate desert. 
The soil of Arabia is good soil and wherever water has 
been found, it bears good crops. In some districts, as in 
the territory about Riyadh, the capital city of the Wahabi 
state of inland Arabia, the soil is of the very best quality. 
Even where it seems to be clear sand, as in the village of 
Jahra near Kuwait in northeastern Arabia, it still pro- 
duces excellent crops of alfalfa if sufficiently irrigated. 
Doubtless there are places where no crops could be grown, 
as on the great, black rocky plain between Hasa and 
Riyadh, and indeed on much of the rocky desert, but it 
seems that wherever water has been found, there at least 
dates and alfalfa can be grown, and there a community 
of permanent residents settles. 
With the exception of the flowing springs along the 
43 


44 THE ARAB AT HOME 


strip of lowland close to the sea, practically all of this 
water is from wells. There appear to be no flowing 
springs very far inland. There is one spring in the Hasa 
oasis about forty miles from the sea that waters gar- 
dens for ten miles, and at its source a small canoe could be 
used on it for perhaps a mile. A walk along that stream 
of water, as clear as crystal and so beautifully blue that 
it might have come from the sky above rather than from 
the earth beneath, is a lesson in the possibilities of beauty 
even under the most unfavorable conditions. The banks 
are lined with beautiful date gardens, and the path is an 
aisle between lofty and dignified palms. Stretching out 
on each side are fields, some of them the solid dark green 
of alfalfa and some the lighter green of the rice crop. 
There are peach orchards and gardens of pomegranates, 
fig-trees and rose-bushes. It is a beautiful walk. 

The distance of the water level from the surface of 
the ground in these oases varies greatly, and that within 
short distances. In Riyadh, for instance, the water comes 
from wells whose depth is about ninety feet. The supply 
is adequate and never seems to fail, even in dry seasons, 
though the water level falls at such times, but at a depth 
of ninety feet the labor of raising the water by the prim- 
itive means available in Arabia eats up all the profits of 
the gardening. As a result only the sheikhs have gar- 
dens there. Possessing large capital they can disregard 
an occasional crop failure. The father of the present 
ruler is responsible for the statement that not over half 
the years show a real profit from the operation of the 
Riyadh gardens. Within five miles of Riyadh, however, 
are villages where water can be secured at a depth of 
twenty to thirty feet, and there, as might be expected, 
gardening is very profitable. Land for the purpose is 


THE OASIS COMMUNITY 45 


valuable and all the available water is carefully used. 

Compared with western standards, gardens in Arabia 
are small and cultivation intensive. Practically every 
garden has a grove of trees and in their shade is found 
the well which makes cultivation possible. The method 
of raising water from such a well is interesting. Men 
use it all over Arabia and also in India. A donkey, an 
Ox, or even a camel furnishes the power, and a very con- 
siderable efficiency is secured. The water is drawn up in 
a great skin bucket, which carries water of perhaps one- 
fourth the weight of the animal pulling. An ingenious 
arrangement of a second rope tied to the funnel-shaped 
bottom of the bucket, empties it automatically when the 
ground level is reached. The animal, as he pulls this 
huge bucket of water to the surface, descends an inclined 
plane dug out of the earth at a pitch of perhaps twenty 
degrees. As he comes to the end of his roadway, 
the bucket reaches the ground level, automatically empties 
itself, and then descends as the animal climbs slowly back 
to the top of his toboggan slide. These animals fre- 
quently work in batteries of four, all their four buckets 
bringing water from the same well. ‘The pulleys are ar- 
ranged on a high framework above, and since pulleys and 
axles are both made of wood, the air is filled with a 
curious semi-musical squeak as the work goes on. A 
single man or boy can superintend the work of four such 
animals, and the amount of water that can be raised is 
considerable. It is hard work for the beasts, for they 
must pull going down and climb a steep hill to get back 
to the starting place. In summer, when water is in great 
demand, the music of the water-wheels can be heard 
throughout the entire night. The animals work in re- 
lays, but the men have longer hours, and the twenty-four 


46 THE ARAB AT HOME 


hour shift is not unknown when necessity arises. 

The care of these draught animals is one of the duties 
of the gardener. It is quite impossible for the gardeners 
to do without them, except the few near the coast whose 
land is watered by running springs and who are therefore 
saved this hard and tedious work. In such cases the in- 
creased profits, however, go to the man who owns the land 
rather than to the man who works it. In Katif practi: 
cally all the gardens are watered by springs and no lifting 
of the water is required. In Hasa most of the water 
must be lifted perhaps thirty feet to the garden level. It 
is impossible to see that the standards of living among the 
cultivators of the two places are perceptibly different, al- 
though the gardens of Katif are far more valuable and 
yield a greater income to their owners. 

Providing water constitutes by far the major effort con- 
nected with gardening, and the water is therefore very 
carefully used. The garden is skilfully terraced, and a 
little runway is constructed to the roots of each date 
palm and to each square of the field. The water is lifted 
high enough to give it a good pitch as it flows through 
these channels, and the flow from the well to the field is 
rapid. <A circular dike surrounds the roots of each date 
palm. These palms may be planted in regular rows, and 
the resulting aisles and avenues are very beautiful. The 
squares of the field vary in size with the pitch of the land, 
and are separated by small dikes, perhaps six inches high. 
Where the pitch is steep, they are small, and where the 
field is more level, they can be very large. Different 
crops require different amounts of water, and all require 
more in the hot summer than in the cooler spring and 
winter. The quantity that is needed is considerable at 
all times, and the work seems never to stop. In the bet- 


(1) SHNAOS 











THE OASIS COMMUNITY 47 


ter gardens there is an effort to have the water carried 
through cement-lined waterways to avoid waste, and it 
may be carried in this way for some miles. This par- 
ticular feature, however, has not been given the attention 
it deserves, and nothing is more common than to see water 
wasted in passing through a long sandy waterway, when 
every drop is seriously needed. 

The one crop that is universal is dates, and date culture 
is the one thing that Arab gardeners know. Evidently 
more human life can be supported per acre by date cul- 
ture than by any other crop that can be raised in Arabia. 
There are many varieties of dates, and the Arab has a dif- 
ferent name for each stage in their development; indeed 
the student is told that there are five hundred different 
names for the date in Arabic. The date palm furnishes 
food and much more than food. The townsman’s house 
is built from it, and it is his main fuel supply. Mats are 
made from its leaves and beds and furniture from its 
wood. It thus supplies shelter and food, furniture and 
fuel—nearly everything, in fact, except clothes. Life in 
an oasis centers about the date palm just as life in the 
desert centers about the camel. 

The various processes of date culture present many 
features of interest. In the spring the land must be 
spaded over. It is ploughed if there is sufficient area un- 
encumbered by trees to make ploughing possible. The 
ploughs in use are nothing more than crooked sticks, and 
the resulting effect on the surface of the ground is like 
what we know as harrowing. There is manure to be 
bought and spread over the fields and gardens. In Hasa 
and the older oasis settlements this is a very important 
matter. In the gardens of Mesopotamia less stress is laid 
on it, for the soil there is very deep and almost inexhaust- 


48 THE ARAB AT HOME 


ible in its fertility. In Hasa, although the supply of wa- 
ter is unusually good, the soil is poor. Manure is a care- 
fully hoarded commodity, and is sold at a dollar per 
donkey-load. The spring work includes not merely the 
preparation of the soil and its fertilization with manure, 
but also the trimming of the trees and the sowing of such 
various small crops as the garden can afford. 

The old dry fronds of the date palms must be cut off in 
the spring, leaving only the green and fresh growth of 
one season. The date gardeners construct from such 
frail-looking material a surprisingly tight and efficient 
shelter from the weather, and one that will last for up- 
wards of ten years. Later in the season the butts of these 
fronds are cut off from the trunk, leaving a neat-looking 
palm, and also furnishing the principal fuel of the com- 
munity. This fuel is light but exceedingly satisfactory 
for cooking purposes—the only purpose for which the 
Arab uses much fuel. A date palm may live for fifty or 
a hundred years, but eventually it dies and then its trunk 
is sold for lumber. A more unsatisfactory lumber for 
building purposes or fuel could hardly be imagined than 
this soft, porous, spongy wood, but the rafters of the 
houses are usually made of it and also the small bridges 
over the irrigation canals. There is nothing else, so it 
is the commonly used wood of the community. 

Early in the season the flowers of the date palm make 
their appearance in great clusters that are several feet 
long. The gardener must bring a sprig of flowers from 
a male tree and shake the pollen on the flowers of the fe- 
male tree. Every gardener plans to have one or two 
male trees to furnish pollen, and if he has not, he must 
buy from those who are better supplied. This pollen- 
ization of the flowers is quite a laborious process and takes 


THE OASIS COMMUNITY 49 


several days. After it is completed, the clusters of fe- 
male flowers are carefully tied into place, so that as the 
stalk grows longer, the clusters of dates will hang down 
properly between the great fronds and be easy to pick 
when the time comes. In some localities it is necessary 
to wrap up the flowers and even the small green dates in 
rags or in soft palm bark to protect them from the sun 
and the wind. 

During all this time the irrigation of the gardens is 
carried on without interruption. The dates develop, and 
after three months the early varieties are ripe. The 
Arabs have early and late varieties. The earliest are 
called the “ninety days” dates—the name indicating the 
time from flower to ripe fruit. In the region of Katif 
there is a considerable trade in what goes by the name of 
“sulug.’ This is a surprisingly sweet dry product which 
sells in India and elsewhere at a high price as a sort of 
confection. To make it, dates of a certain variety are 
picked when still hard and green. They are full size and 
sweet to the taste, but woody and disagreeable to eat. 
After being boiled for a few minutes, they are dried in 
the sun. Sulug season in Katif is a time of great excite- 
ment. Enormous kettles are in operation everywhere 
and huge fires are kept going under them. [uel is in 
great demand, date trunks being especially prized for this 
work. When the large bunches of green dates have been 
brought from the trees on the backs of donkeys, they are 
held for perhaps five minutes in the boiling water and 
then removed, carried to some conveniently arranged shed 
and carefully dried. It is a good deal of extra work, 
but the price paid for the dates so treated more than re- 
pays the extra labor. 

Dates are eaten as soon as they are ripe, but fresh 


50 THE ARAB AT HOME 


dates could not be kept the year through, much less be 
shipped. Accordingly those not desired for immediate 
consumption are left to dry on the trees. After some 
weeks, when they are dry enough, they are cut and car- 
ried off in bunches to the camps of packers, where they 
are packed into the wooden boxes that have become 
familiar to Americans. In the smaller oases they are not 
packed in boxes, for there is no idea of exporting them to 
America or England. For local consumption in Arabia 
they are packed in old discarded water skins or in old 
kerosene tins. The tins have served as water vessels for 
many years before coming to this final end of their 
earthly service. 

Alfalfa is the only other crop of any importance 
aside from dates. It is cut every six weeks the year 
through and apparently the yield is usually very good. 
Other products than these two are incidental luxuries. 
Pomegranates can be raised if there is room and water 
for them, and several varieties of limes and lemons. Figs 
will grow, and peaches. Even grapes can be raised, but 
for some reason they do not seem to be popular. In 
season the rich can enjoy a large variety of fruits and a 
smaller variety of vegetables. Pumpkins, egg plant, okra 
and onions are among the latter. “Tomatoes have been 
introduced recently from the West and are growing in 
popularity. A poor sort of muskmelon is also grown and 
does very well. All these are raised and marketed by 
hand labor. Careful intensive cultivation must be the 
prevailing method in such a community of small acreage 
and dense population. The land is spaded and pulverized 
by hand, and all the subsequent cultivation is of the same 
sort. There is little place for labor-saving agricultural 


machinery. 


rs . 





OASIS SCENES © (2) 


7 





}} 


THE OASIS COMMUNITY oA 


Why is not the area of cultivation increased? Near al- 
most every oasis there is an abundance of excellent agri- 
cultural land, which could be utilized if water were avail- 
able. There is a more or less continuous effort to dis- 
cover new wells and so increase the size of the oases, and 
occasionally these efforts are successful. There are also 
areas that could be brought under cultivation far away 
from any permanent settlements—or at least so the Arabs 
say, but the antipathy of the Bedouin toward hand labor 
makes starting a new oasis difficult. The introduction 
of crude oil engines has been urged as offering greater 
efficiency in pumping and so making possible larger gar- 
dens. The present ruler of the Wahabi state is trying 
the experiment, but it is not likely to help materially. 
Most wells have a certain capacity per day that is easily 
reached, and it is possible to get out of them all the water 
that they are capable of furnishing by the Arab system of 
skin buckets and donkeys. Crude oil has to be imported 
from a great distance, and it is doubtful whether it will 
be found of sufficient advantage to lead to its permanent 
use. A recent attempt to utilize windmills offers more 
promise, and this particular experiment is being watched 
by the sheikhs with great interest. 

By far the largest class in an oasis community is made 
up of the date cultivators. They live in the town and go 
out to their work every morning. The distance is small, 
and they would not think of living in isolated houses in 
the gardens. The terms under which the date cultivator 
works are hard and oppressive. Contracts with the 
owner of the garden run for one year only, and at the 
end of that time a new agreement must be made. The 
gardener must deliver, not a certain percentage of the 
crop, but a fixed number of skins or tins or boxes of dates 


52 THE ARAB AT HOME 


to the land-owner. In addition he must deliver a certain 
amount of alfalfa if he raises that crop and of various 
other vegetables and fruits, depending of course on what 
the garden raises. The element of chance is thus borne 
entirely by the gardener. An extra good year brings with 
it unusual profits. The gardener, however, is by no 
means as happy over such an occurrence as might be ex- 
pected, for one of the results of a good year is increased 
rent for the year following, and the gardener fears that 
he may lose in the future all he is gaining in the present. 
Moreover, there seems to be a good deal of competition on 
the part of the gardeners and this keeps the rents high 
and the compensation of the gardeners low. The rent is 
regularly kept as high as the common run of crops war- 
rants. Even the dry date fronds and the butts are 
brought under tribute. There is no competition on the 
part of the land-owners, for of course the amount of land 
available in any oasis is fixed. The discovery of new 
wells widens the oasis boundaries, but very slowly and 
uncertainly. The surplus population must look elsewhere 
for employment and livelihood, and under these circum- 
stances it is natural that the land-owners should be able to 
keep the remuneration of the gardeners down to a very 
low figure. 

As a matter of fact, however, the gardeners do not 
starve nor even come near it. Although the land-owners 
would undoubtedly be able to keep them down close to a 
mere subsistence level, they do not press their advantage 
to its limit. When an unusually good year comes, the 
gardeners reap the benefit of it, whereas when an excep- 
tionally bad year comes, they can almost alway have their 
contracts altered. In such a year the stipulated number 
of skins of dates could only be delivered by borrowing 


THE OASIS COMMUNITY Bye: 


money and buying them in the open market at a high 
price. The gardener would be reduced to bankruptcy by 
any such requirement. Indeed it is doubtful whether he 
could find any one who would lend him the money for 
such a purchase. So in case the crop is an almost com- 
plete failure, the gardener goes to the land-owner and asks 
to be relieved of a certain percentage of his contract obli- 
gation. The land-owner is not always willing to grant 
this request, and if he is not, the matter is carried to the 
governor, who usually sees to it that starvation conditions 
are not enforced. In this he has the unqualified support 
of the community as a whole. It is the function of a 
ruler in Arabia to modify contracts and agreements that 
result in oppression and suffering. 

There is also a far more potent force which operates 
to keep the terms of the contracts between owners and 
gardeners at a level of comfortable existence. The land- 
owner spends little time in his garden, but it is a very 
valuable piece of property. It would even have a con- 
siderable value as a piece of bare land with its water 
rights, although no useful agricultural land in an oasis 
is kept idle in such a way, for arable land is too scarce 
to be wasted. It is always in use for gardening in one 
form or another. As a result, its value lies principally in 
its date trees, in its perfected irrigation system, in the 
various permanent improvements such as walls and houses 
that it possesses. These improvements are expensive but 
they require little for upkeep, so the running expense 1s 
not great. <A good gardener will keep them all in repair. 
Under his hand the value of the garden will steadily in- 
crease. He will carefully manure the soil. The irriga- 
tion system will be improved. Each old and decrepit tree 
will be removed, and in anticipation of this necessity, a 


54 THE ARAB AT HOME 


new date sprout will have been planted some years be- 
fore, close to the trunk of the old tree, so that no vacant 
areas develop in the garden. ‘The date trees will be well 
cared for, and the other crops will be profitably developed. 
Now it is true in Arabia, exactly as in any other part of 
the world, that half-starved and discontented men are not 
the best tenants. The value of a garden depreciates in 
such hands. The result is that the rental level is placed so 
as to allow the gardener a good shelter from the weather, 
an abundance of food and adequate clothes. He is al- 
ways moderately comfortable, and on feast days is able to 
put on a surprisingly gay appearance. There are, of 
course, the differences between individuals that would be 
expected. Some are shiftless and on the verge of starva- 
tion, and some are surprisingly prosperous even to the 
point of having small amounts of money saved and per- 
haps lent out at interest. One wonders whether these 
men ever come to own their own gardens. Such a thing 
may occur, but I have never heard of it. 

The foundation of the economic life of the oasis itself 
is agriculture, the raising of dates and alfalfa. But the 
oasis is not a unit by itself. It is part of the desert, the 
center indeed of desert life. Even a community as primi- 
tive as the Bedouins’ must be served by a certain number 
of artisans and tradesmen, and these are never found out 
in the desert with the tribes. They are located in the 
oases. Compared with the desert the oasis has a social 
life and organization more nearly like our own at home. 
Men no longer have the same occupation, think the same 
thoughts and live the same life. A division of labor 
appears, much the same as we see the world over, and a 
division of society into classes is the inevitable result. 

Next to the cultivators the largest and most interesting 


THE OASIS COMMUNITY a 


class in an oasis community consists of artisans. Al- 
though a few simple machines are in use, most of the 
artisan class are hand workers in the strictest sense of the 
word. Industry is about where it must have been in 
Europe before the days of steam engines and power ma- 
chinery. I have seen a factory in Hasa where between 
one and two dozen hand looms were working. The la- 
borers are paid from two and a half to four rupees a day, 
depending on the amount of work they turn out, and the 
product is sold by the owner of the factory for whatever 
profit he can make. 

The largest and best organized industry is that of the 
weavers, who make the cloth for the outer cloaks which 
are worn everywhere in Arabia. The spinning of the 
thread used by these weavers is a household industry over 
the whole peninsula. Nothing could be simpler than the 
small stick with a little hook in one end which serves as a 
distaff. This is neatly twirled as it hangs from the hand 
at the end of a piece of thread two feet or more long. As 
it spins around, the wool is carefully fed into the top of 
the thread, and as that is twisted into thread, more is 
added. As soon as the thread becomes inconveniently 
long, it is wound on to the stick and the process continued. 
Thread thus spun may be coarse or it may be surprisingly 
fine. It is sometimes dyed, but the three ordinary colors, 
white, black and brown, can be secured by selecting the 
natural wools of those colors. There is always a market 
for this thread. Every Bedouin woman, when she has 
no other occupation, seems to be spinning, and every 
superannuated old man as well. It is the one way of 
picking up an honest penny that is always open. 

The weavers buy the different grades of this locally 
spun yarn, and also import specially fine grades from 


56 THE ARAB AT HOME 


Persia, where the people are better craftsmen than the 
Arabs. Even the Persian yarn is not fine enough for 
some of their weaving, and the very fine yarns are im- 
ported from England. There is no direct commerce with 
England, but many of the local merchants go to Bombay 
and secure there the finer grades of English yarn. 

This industry is by far the best organized of any in the 
city. The looms of the weavers are quite ingenious ma- 
chines. There is a factory system and the actual work 
on the looms is done by men who are paid piece-work 
wages, the machines themselves and the profit of the in- 
dustry belonging to the owner. It is hardly necessary 
to add that he is by far the richest of the group, although 
on occasion he may work at a loom himself. A dozen or 
two of these looms may be set up in one courtyard. The 
air and the light are good, and the workmen keep such 
hours as they wish, each being assigned to a certain ma- 
chine. With intelligence and aptitude, the wages earned 
are such as put the weaver on a plane rather above the 
average of the artisans around him. ‘The air of content- 
ment and of generally distributed prosperity among the 
weavers is very gratifying. 

The tailors are the next largest industrial group in 
these oasis towns. They are not so well organized as the 
weavers, and the factory system is less developed. They 
work in large rooms, sometimes with twenty to fifty ina 
room. Some of them are employees of the owner of the 
establishment, but in this industry there is a good deal 
of friendly association of congenial operators, and the 
exact terms vary with different establishments. Most of 
the work is still on a more or less individualistic basis. 

The actual shaping of an Arab garment is a simple 
process, for Arab garments are not intended to cling to 


THE OASIS COMMUNITY 57 


the body. Undergarments are like enormous, loosely fit- 
ting nightgowns and the outer cloak is a still more flowing 
affair. One might imagine that two six-foot squares of 
cloth had been sewed together at the top and sides 
with a hole left in the top seam for the head and each of 
the upper corners left open for the arms. To make such 
a garment into an Arab cloak, it would only be necessary 
to open it from the neck to the ground in front. These 
cloaks are known as abas, or in the southern part of 
Arabia as bishts. Of course they are not constructed in 
the manner described. Two horizontal strips of cloth 
three feet wide are used to make an aba. The strips are 
laid in place and sewed together, and the tailors might bet- 
ter be called embroiderers, for the edges of the aba must 
be worked in scarlet and gold thread, and the collar must 
be decorated with embroidery over a strip perhaps 
two inches broad. The more expensive the aba, the 
greater the amount of embroidery on it. The religious 
leaders of the Bedouins, and indeed the entire Wahabi 
sect, forbid. the wearing of silk or gold in any way, so 
their abas are more modest. 

The coppersmiths are*a considerable community in all 
these towns. They are skilled artisans and some of them 
are real artists. Their principal products are coffee pots 
and other cooking utensils. The making of coffee in 
Arabia is an elaborate function and every householder 
of importance has a battery of coffee pots that may num- 
ber ten or a dozen. Three must be used to make coffee 
properly. The patterns of the different regions vary con- 
siderably, and great pride is taken in having a really 
artistic collection. The universal favorite is the model 
that comes from Constantinople and Damascus. Not 
only is its shape especially graceful, but it is made out of 


58 THE ARAB AT HOME 


cast brass, and its surface polishes most beautifully. 
The Hasa coffee pots have a more squat shape, with a 
heavier spout. They are perhaps equally artistic as 
far as their shape is concerned, but they are made of 
sheet brass hammered into shape and afterward filed and 
_ polished. They never show the luster of the Damascus 
product. | 

Cooking pots and kettles are also made by the cop- 
persmiths and some of those for the use of the sheikhs 
are of enormous size. Two whole sheep can be cooked 
at once in the larger ones. Most of these utensils, 
however, are made for the common householder and are 
of a very moderate size. Copper transmits heat well and 
is easily worked. Iron, probably because it is much more 
difficult to work, has never come into common use for 
this purpose in Arabia. During the war it was almost 
impossible to get sheet brass and copper and the lack 
was very keenly felt. Of late, aluminum vessels have 
been introduced, and although they seem less durable than 
the copper ones for hard wear, their cleanliness and con- 
venient shapes have made them popular with the towns- 
people. 

Among the artisans of the oasis are also the black- 
smiths, or ironworkers, who make the nails that are used 
in ship-building on the coast, and in house-building in the 
interior. These nails are laboriously hammered out of 
iron rods imported from Bombay. They are expensive, 
but for ships, at least, they are indispensable, as they 
resist the action of the salt water far better than imported 
nails. There are also a few woodworkers who manufac- 
ture furniture for the houses: settees, water stands for 
the water jars, camel saddles and the like. These car- 
penters, as they might be called, have nothing to do with 





(3) 


SCENES 


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OASIi 





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THE OASIS COMMUNITY 59 


house-building, for no house in Arabia is built of wood. 
The utmost that the carpenter does is to help finish its 
interior and provide the doors and windows. 

All of these artisans seem to enjoy a moderately satis- 
factory income. Their food is sufficient, and their houses 
are good shelter from the cold, the heat and the rain. 
They have adequate clothes. The artisan class as a whole 
appears to have about the same standards of life as the 
date cultivators. This is to be expected, of course, for 
the cultivators are the dominant class, and a scale of 
wages greatly below theirs would simply drive men to 
leave their trade and take up the better paid work of the 
gardens. 

In all of these oases there are enterprising merchants 
who buy from the Bedouin the few things he has to sell, 
some sheep, a little clarified butter, some wool and a few 
hides. To these may be added in a good season large 
quantities of roasted locusts and a small amount of the 
hard dry cheese made from camel’s milk, “yaghourt,” as 
they call it. The bazaar of an Arab town is a busy and 
colorful place. The merchant, on his part, sells to the 
Bedouin the commodities he is able to buy, a small amount 
of foreign cloth, some kerosene oil, probably from Amer- 
ica, some gaudy trinkets for personal adornment, perhaps 
even a lantern. Besides there are products of local manu- 
facture, the work of the various artisans, and, most im- 
portant of all, dates for every one who has money to buy. 
There is rice from India, too, and wheat from Persia, 
but these are for persons of affluence, such as sheikhs and 
their retainers. There are even books, most of them re- 
ligious, for any who wish to buy such things, but few or 
none of them are bought by the Bedouins. Perfumers’ 
shops are to be found in every bazaar of any considerable 


oe 


60 THE ARAB AT HOME 


size, and the concentrated oily essences that the Arab is so 
fond of, are one of the staples of the place. The west- 
ern visitor regards with a feeling akin to terror the little 
glass phial which his host brings around at the end of a 
visit. It is distinctly bad manners not to accept the gra- 
ciously offered honor and smear the hair, moustache and 
beard, as well as the clothes, with this powerful perfume. 
For the next twenty-four hours an aureole of fragrance 
hangs about one, which it may take many ablutions to 
remove. 

Many of the smaller merchants of the bazaar are really 
nothing but agents for individuals who have something 
or other to sell. A surprising percentage of the trade of 
an Arabian bazaar is carried on by these hawkers. They 
belong to the laboring rather than to the merchant class; 
and their hours are long and their reward small. Be- 
sides all these, there are a certain number of common 
laborers, who carry burdens in the bazaar and work at 
digging ditches or at any other unskilled labor which 
offers itself. 

The only representatives of what we know as the pro- 
fessional classes are the various religious teachers. 
These men are frequently trained in Mohammedan reli- 
gious schools for many years before assuming their offi- 
cial duties. They are mosque preachers and act as in- 
structors in matters of religion. The more prominent 
ones will have religious schools for the instruction of boys 
who look forward to religious careers. Their principal 
function, however, is one that we would regard as politi- 
cal. They are arbiters in the disputes and small lawsuits 
that arise between citizens, and as such enjoy positions of 
great influence. There is no place in Mohammedanism 
for the exercise of what we understand as the functions 


THE OASIS COMMUNITY 61 


of a spiritual guide or pastor, much less for the functions 
of a priest. 

There is a small group of land-owners and merchants 
(the same individual is frequently both), who constitute 
a wealthy upper class which has great power in the com- 
munity. They form a sort of unofficial cabinet to advise 
the ruler, and not a great deal happens without their 
knowledge and approval. However, they are not sheikhs, 
and sometimes when a powerful governor presides over a 
community, this rich men’s cabinet exercises surprisingly 
little influence over him. The ruler and his family form 
what might be termed a class by themselves. Frequently 
they are strangers more or less directly derived from 
some Bedouin tribe and far less traveled and sophisticated 
than many of their rich subjects. They are, however, 
none the less effective rulers for that. But the whole 
subject of the workings of Arab government is one that 
we must reserve for a later chapter. 

Desert and oasis in Arabia represent two conflicting 
modes of life and there is little sympathy between them. 
To the Bedouin the town is a community of masters 
and slaves with the vast majority slaves. The date gar- 
dener works long and hard; moreover he works under 
another man’s direction, and this director of his efforts 
receives the major part of the proceeds. The artisan, 
to be sure, is not the slave of any one individual, but he 
too is cooped up in narrow quarters, and the necessities 
of his family keep him busy from morning till night 
working with his hands. Land-owners and merchants 
the Bedouin envies, but he still pities them their cramped 
life and close confinement in the town. Why any one 
who is rich enough to afford a home in the desert should 
prefer to live in the oasis, is to him an insoluble mystery. 


62 THE ARAB AT HOME 


But if the Bedouin has a great contempt for the towns- 
man, the townsman on his part reciprocates most cor- 
dially. He regards the unwashed and unkempt nomad of 
the desert as little better than a wild beast. Incidentally 
he fears the wild religious fanaticism of the despised 
tribesmen exceedingly, and not without reason. “Infi- 
del,” said one of the Bedouins to a small shopkeeper in 
_Hasa who sat comfortably smoking his big waterpipe in 
the door of his shop. “Infidel, shall I break it over your 
head, or smash it here on the ground?” and the shop- 
keeper having indicated a preference for the ground, the 
fanatical Wahabi, to whom tobacco is the very essence of 
sin and uncleanness, smashed the waterpipe to pieces on 
the floor. A waterpipe is a quite expensive affair, being 
an ornamented glass jar of about a quart capacity. Those 
accustomed to their use insist that in no other way can 
tobacco be properly smoked. The time was when the in- 
habitants of the oasis towns were more religious than the 
Bedouins, but that time is past, and now the Bedouin in 
his religious zeal looks on them as next to infidels. 
“Those are the men,” the city dweller will explain with 
great scorn, ‘‘who think they are competent to instruct us 
in matters of religion. ‘They do not know the simplest 
prayers. Their heads are so full of lice that room could 
scarcely be found for more. Their clothes never get 
washed. Their women go about unveiled. They are 
nothing but wild animals.” 

The underlying changes that have brought about this 
transformation from desert conditions to those of the 
oasis are two. ‘There is a divison of labor, and a certain 
differentiation into sections and cliques is inevitable on ac- 
count of that, but a far more significant thing is the fact 
that agricultural land in the oasis is held as private prop- 





OASIS INDUSTRIES 


64 THE ARAB AT HOME 


_ is greater. The gardener may consider himself hard 
worked and poorly rewarded. Both of these statements 


oe ge true. The terms of his agreement with the man who 


oWns the garden are oppressive. He knows very well that 
his labor is making the land-owner rich while he remains 
poor... Nevertheless, his lot is vastly more comfortable 
and he is much more of a polished gentleman than the 
Bedouin. His wife at least does not wash her hair in 
camel’s urine. The community as a whole, including the 
artisans and gardeners, has sufficient food and adequate 
clothes. Compared with desert conditions, people keep 
clean. Whether built of stone or of mud bricks or of date 
beams and date leaves, their houses are good shelter from 
the weather, are warm in winter and fairly cool in sum- 
mer. On holidays it is refreshing to see how gaily at- 
tired they all are. The poorest have a large amount of 
leisure and can visit their friends and enjoy a pleasant 
social life. 

This society is confined to members of their own class, 
but within those limits it is quite as fine and unconstrained 
and free as that of the Bedouin. Indeed, in some ways _ 
there is a spontaneity and a good fellowship and a genuine ~ 
brotherhood that go far beyond anything that the Bed- 
ouin knows. The Bedouin is an individualist, and in his 
home he is seen at his best. His association with friends 
outside of his own tent, even though they are members 
of his tribe, is marked by a grave taciturnity that is far 
removed from the spirit shown when the silversmiths of 
Hasa have a social evening together or when the date 
gardeners of Katif entertain a stranger. 

Furthermore, in these oasis towns there are the begin- 
nings of Arabic art. Arabic penmanship, when done by 
a master, is real art, and the expert Arab penman is prob- 


THE OASIS COMMUNITY 65 


ably the most highly developed artist that the place 
affords. Many of the artisans, too, put into their work 
the true spirit of the artist. The Hasa coffee pots with 
their decorations, the fine products of the gold and sil- 
ver workers, especially their wedding ornaments for 
women, and the embroidery that decorates both men’s and 
women’s clothing often display real art. 

More important, there is a considerable diffusion of 
education in the oasis, principally among its upper classes, 
but to no small degree even among the lowest. Ibn 
Saoud boasts that in the towns of inland Arabia over two- 
thirds of the men can at least read the Koran, and many 
of them can write as well. His system of government- 
paid education is extensive and is a great credit 
to him. A certain number of Arabic newspapers are 
read. These come from Egypt and Constantinople and 
Baghdad. Most important of all, surprising numbers of 
these townsmen have traveled, and the travelers come 
from all classes. Some have gone as merchants, some as 
servants; some have shipped as sailors from the coast 
towns, or indeed as stokers in the steamers of the 
“TIngleez.”’ I met a man in Hasa who had been all over 
the world as a member of an acrobatic troupe. He had 
visited nearly every large capital in Europe and some of 
the large cities of America. It is true that many very 
astonishing and crude ideas are met in these places, but 
these travelers are at least past the stage where the world 
is flat. One of them was told something about a new 
telescope recently built—how it was hoped among other 
things to discover many new facts about the moon by 
its means. “Oh yes,” was the reply. “I was reading 
about that in the newspaper myself. With this new in- 
strument they were able to see that the moon was 1n- 


66 THE ARAB AT HOME 


habited. They saw a garden and out of it a man came 
with something under his arm, but it was impossible to 
be certain whether it was a watermelon or a muskmelon.” 

The Westerner feels quite at home as he observes the 
material elements of life in an oasis. In social organiza- 
tion and economic thought the resemblance to the West. 
is very close. The surprising thing is their extraordinary 
religious development. No more religious communities 
are to be found anywhere in the world. Religion is not 
a matter for religious leaders; it is rather the primary 
concern of the entire community. The next world is 
something inexpressibly important in the minds of these 
people, and as far as can be judged, all classes share in 
this feeling. 

In the oases near the coast where the present world 
is a more comfortable place than in the desert of inland 
Arabia, there is less of this emphasis on the next world. 
Most of the religious leaders of the Bedouins live in these 
towns and in that sense they are religious centers of 
Arabia, but the rank and file of the oasis inhabitants give 
much of their attention to matters that are of the earth 
earthy. The religion of the date gardener who lives in 
such an oasis is not nearly so strong philosophically as 
the Bedouin’s and it has much more superstition, for he is 
almost without exception a Shiah rather than an orthodox 
Sunni whenever the choice has been offered him. He is, 
however, much more tolerant than the Sunni Bedouin 
and far more willing that men of different convictions 
shall be his neighbors. He does not want to eat with 
infidels, but on the other hand he has not the slightest 
desire to kill them, nor even to drive them away from 
the village. As far as he is concerned, a Jew may live in 














Cee 





OASIS DWELLERS 


2 


sre 





THE OASIS COMMUNITY 67 


his town if he is a respectable citizen and especially if he 
fulfills any useful function in the place. He is glad to 
have an infidel Christian doctor come and set up a hos- 
pital. The fact that this doctor represents a different 
religion does not cause him a moment’s worry. 

On the other hand, the intolerance of some of these 
oasis communities, especially among the Sunnis of in- 
land Arabia, is tremendous. A member of the Shiah 
sect may be permitted to reside in northern Arabia, but 
in the Wahabi district of Riyadh, Shiahs are looked on 
with great hostility. The presence of a Christian is a 
contamination, and that of a Jew is intolerable. These 
fanatics regard all the rest of the world with a lofty and 
scornful pity as miserable infidels and look forward with 
delight to the day when all such will roast in Hell. Mo- 
hammed came from such a community, and it was his pic- 
ture of God’s omnipotence and the infinite superiority 
of believers over the wretched infidels who comprise the 
rest of the world that lias given Mohammedanism such 
success in three continents. 

Aside from this intolerance, every element necessary to 
progress seems to be present in these Arab communities. 
There is certainly no lack of a keen intelligence in study- 
ing and interpreting the world’s affairs. There is no 
lack of loyalty in following a trusted leader. The be- 
ginnings of art and its appreciation by the people as a 
whole look most encouraging. There has been a most 
commendable diffusion of education; it is true that up till 
now it has been of a very provincial sort, but discounted 
to the utmost, no one can deny that a male literacy of 
seventy-five per cent is a great achievement. It is impos- 
sible for any one to become acquainted with Arab life in 


68 THE ARAB AT HOME 


desert and town without coming to a puzzled inquiry as 
to the cause for its continued stagnation. What is it 
that holds the Arabs back? 

The answer lies upon the surface of Arab society. It 
is so obvious, indeed, that it usually escapes notice, or 
rather it is only after considerable observation that one 
comes to realize its effects and implications. To a new 
arrival from America the most surprising difference be- 
tween the society he has left and the new society he now 
enters, is in the relation of the sexes. All animal appetites 
are strongly developed in the Arab, but nowhere has the 
development been so unbalanced and harmful as in the 
appetites and passions which are connected with sex. 
These appetites are perhaps as intensely developed in the 
Arab as in any race in the world. Certainly they are far 
more intense than in Europe and America. The Arab 
knows three pleasures, perfumes to smell, food to eat and 
women to enjoy. In ten years’ medical work in Arabia, 
I have yet to interview the first Arab in search of a tonic 
because his business cares or any other of life’s ordinary 
activities were proving too much for his strength. Hun- 
dreds have come to ask for some elixir to prolong and in- 
crease the physical pleasures of parenthood. The cus- 
toms that the Arab’s appetite has created allow him four 
Wives and as many concubines as he desires. He may 
divorce any wife at his pleasure and sell any concubine. 
Thus he may change partners at will and contract a new 
alliance at any time the fancy strikes him—whenever, in 
fact, he finds his first partners getting a trifle old or other- 
wise unattractive, quite commonly after they have borne 
children and have therefore less to offer in the way of sex 
gratification. The result can be imagined. The pleas- 
ures licensed and endorsed by such a public opinion come 


THE OASIS COMMUNITY 69 


to dominate the whole emotional horizon. Perhaps 
ninety per cent of the conscious enjoyment of the Arab 
comes to reside in this particular experience. 

We might expect to see especial care spent on chil- 
dren in such a country, and all life centering around them. 
If the forces of religion had been exerted to this end, 
perhaps that is what we should see, but as a matter of 
fact, religion has surrendered to custom and desire and 
the far easier path has been followed which leads to the 
focusing of all attention on physical sex indulgence, with 
children a mere necessary encumbrance. The world of 
the Arab does not revolve about the children. They are 
a mere incident, although they are petted and spoiled. 
What he delights in is the physical enjoyment of a new 
and pretty wife. 

Fortunately there are natural limits to this indulgence. 
The number of women in Arabia is not greatly in excess 
of the number of men, and obviously the percentage of 
men who can have four wives is a small one. Arabs uni- 
versally have an abnormally developed sex appetite, and 
their whole emotional life revolves around it, but not all 
have surrendered equally to this type of excess. Poly- 
gamy is almost unknown among the nomad Bedouins of 
the desert and divorce is uncommon. The poorer 
classes in the oases and in the coast towns share to 
some extent in the immunity of the Bedouin. None of 
them, however, show as fine a family life as his and for a 
very simple reason. They are not so poor, and the evil 
example of the rich is closer at hand to corrupt their 
minds and desires, even 1f because of their poverty it can- 
not corrupt their practices. 

Among the wealthy the system is carried out to its lim- 
its. Some of the oasis chiefs are among the worst 


70 THE ARAB AT HOME 


offenders. I know one or two of them who are reputed 
to average a new wife every month. ‘The merchants of 
the oases and the coast towns are nearly as bad. It goes 
without saying that only the rich and the great can indulge 
themselves to this extent, for it takes a good deal of 
money to change wives in such a fashion. However, it 
also goes without saying that any society whose ideals 
and religious teachings include and endorse a system such 
as this, and whose promised abode of future bliss is noth- 
ing but an exaggeration of the same thing, will show 
much the same moral tone all the way down to the very 
lowest strata. 


CHA PG ER YTV. 
PEARL DIVERS OF THE EAST COAST 


largest pearl fisheries in the world. Pearl fish- 

ing has been the occupation of that part of 
Arabia for many centuries. Probably a hundred thou- 
sand Arabs are engaged in this hard and dangerous work 
throughout the summer months. Half a million people 
must depend on these divers for their livelihood. This 
is not a large percentage of the inhabitants of Arabia, 
but the pearl divers are worthy of consideration, for the 
outside world has come into closer contact with them than 
with any other Arab community in the entire peninsula. 
As might be expected, the coast cities contain artisans, la- 
borers, a few date gardeners, and merchants. These dif- 
fer in no significant way from similar classes elsewhere. 
The pearl diving community is unique. 

Nothing can exceed the barrenness of the coast where 
these men live. From Kuwait in the north to Ras el 
Kheima in the south, a distance of three hundred miles, 
scarcely a green thing is to be seen, except for a few 
miles of date gardens at Katif and a smaller number at 
Dibai. The water available for drinking is brackish and 
almost undrinkable in many places. The inhabitants of 
Umm el Qaiwain, one of these towns, “drink mud,” to 
quote the Arabs. The coast is so utterly unproductive 
that all food must be imported, and in some places even 


the fuel and drinking water. 
71 


A LONG the East Coast of Arabia are located the 


72 THE ARAB AT HOME 


All the cities along this coast north of Ras el Kheima 
are diving communities, and some of them are quite large. 
Kuwait, the largest, has about fifty thousand inhabitants. 
Kuwait has good harbor facilities, and the government of 
the city has been notably efficient and strong-handed for 
many years. <A pearl diver may as well live in one coast 
town as another, and so Kuwait has grown to be a large 
city. The drinking water for this entire city is brought 
in specially constructed sailing vessels from the mouth 
of the Arab River in Mesopotamia sixty miles away. 
The divers live on rice that is brought them from India, 
on wheat that comes from Persia, and on sheep from in- 
land Persia and Arabia. The only local product is fish. 
The physical surroundings of all these towns are very 
similar to those of Kuwait. The landscape is an un+ 
broken and monotonous expanse of sand on one side 
and sea on the other. The heat in summer is ex- 
treme and the air is practically always moist, so that 
for three or four months in the summer the climate is 
almost unbearable. 

In the spring the diving community begins to hum 
with activity. The boats are cleaned up and repaired. 
New masts are put in and new rigging provided. As the 
time for diving approaches, supplies of food and water 
are taken on board. The divers collect from far and 
near. Most of the population are divers, and in addition 
many more come from a distance to dive for the season. 
There are men from every district in Arabia and from all 
over Mesopotamia; a few come even from the various 
provinces of Persia. The place is filled with festivities 
and good fellowship and hopes for a successful season. 

The day for embarkation finally comes. The boats 
are fitted with enormous sails, and also with a full com- 








KUWAIT AND BAHREIN 


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PEARL DIVERS Da Re 


plement of long heavy oars, so that they can be indepen- 
dent of the wind when necessary. One of these great 
diving boats moving out to sea is a sight long to be 
remembered. I once watched one of the largest Dibai 
boats leave for the pearl banks. During the winter these 
boats are hauled up on the sand within a lagoon that runs 
through the city. The great boat moved majestically 
down this lagoon and out to sea. There were fifteen to 
twenty enormous oars on each side and each oar was 
manned by two divers. The oarsmen swung down the 
lagoon with a stateliness that I have never seen surpassed, 
the men chanting as they worked, “A billah mal, a 
billah mal,” in a rhythm that had all the swing of a regi- 
ment off to war or a football team on its way to a game. 
There was a splendid silk flag flying at the stern, and the 
great ship went out to sea with every small boy in Dibai 
wishing he was on board. I felt the thrill of it myself, 
and the Baluch boy that I had with me as a medical 
assistant had hard work to keep both his feet on the 
ground. “Oh Sahib,” he said, “it makes me want to go 
with them.” 

However, once the pearl banks are reached, the work 
is hard and dangerous. The long oars are fastened in 
place so that they stretch out horizontally over the water 
and to each oar a rope is tied which carries a lead weight 
or a stone on its end. The diver stands on this weight 
as he descends, in order to get down quickly. Each 
diver has an assistant whose duty it is to haul up the 
weight as soon as the diver reaches the bottom, so that 
it may be ready for the next descent. There is a second 
rope which is fastened around the diver’s waist. By this 
his assistant pulls him up when he gives the signal. This 
assistance is not necessary if the diving is in shallow 


74 THE ARAB AT HOME 


water up to twenty feet, but when the depth is greater, 
as from fifty to seventy-five or even occasionally ninety 
feet, the help of the assistant is indispensable. 

The diver puts something that looks much like a 
clothespin on his nose, takes a long breath and descends. 
He can stay under about two minutes, and in that time 
he walks around on the bottom picking up the oyster 
shells that he finds there and filling a small basket, which 
hangs by a cord around his neck. This basket is about 
the size of the crown of a hat. His forefinger is pro- 
tected by a heavy fingercot, for often it is not easy to 
dislodge the oyster from its bed. When the little basket 
is filled, or as soon as he has been down for about two 
minutes, the diver gives his assistant a signal and is pulled 
to the surface. The shells are emptied on to the deck, 
the man rests a short time, and goes down again. This 
work is kept up with little or no intermission until sunset. 
Nothing is eaten in the morning, and nothing through- 
out the entire day. The Arabs say that it is impossible 
to dive except on an empty stomach, and the men take 
nothing except a little coffee perhaps, and on occasions 
a date or two. At sundown they have prayers, and after 
that come a substantial meal and time to sleep. 

The diving has resulted in a pile of oyster shells, which 
is large or small depending on the day’s success. The 
following morning the first item on the program is open- 
ing these shells and finding any pearls that they contain. 
The men sit in two rows, a row on each side of the 
little ship, and a small pile of shells is placed in front of 
each diver. They squat cross-legged, encumbered with 
little clothing, and the captain sits high up astern where 
all of the men will be under his eye as they work. The 
shells are opened with a thin flat knife, and the diver very 


PEARL DIVERS fs 


deftly searches in all the different places where experience 
has taught him to look for the small glistening things 
that bring such a high price in the world’s market. It 
is almost impossible for any one to conceal a pearl as he 
works. He has scarcely enough clothing for such a pur- 
pose, and the watchful eye of the captain is hardly off 
him for a minute. When a pearl is found, if it is small, 
as most of them are, it is wiped off on to the big toe or 
the thumb of the diver. As the work progresses, some 
of the men will have quite a row of little pearls extending 
perhaps the whole length of their big toe, to which they 
adhere because they are damp. As soon as the number 
of these little pearls is sufficient or a really large pearl 
is found, everything is taken to the captain, who care- 
fully puts all the pearls in a little bag made of red 
flannel and keeps them safe. When this work is com- 
pleted, the diving of the day begins. The delay caused 
by the search for pearls in the catch of the previous day 
is not usually more than from half an hour to an hour. 

The skill required for the labor is small, and outsiders 
have little difficulty in qualifying as divers even with no 
previous experience. Stories are told of Bedouins from 
the desert, who have never learned to swim, starting 
nonchalantly to dive with the more experienced men. 
Men of this sort usually get along all right. Occasionally 
they drown. Boys sometimes start out even at the age 
of ten to work as cooks and minor helpers, receiving at 
first a small fixed wage. Later they are promoted to the 
position of assistants and soon are divers if they so desire. 
The work, although it calls for little skill, does require 
much courage and nerve, and to be a really successful 
diver a good degree of aptitude and energy is essential. 
The energetic diver who has at the same time a con- 


76 THE ARAB AT HOME 


tagiously cheerful spirit is prized highly and receives 
extra good treatment. The season’s success, however, 
turns only partially on the energy and skill of the men. 
The fluctuations of the market are pure chance as far as 
the men are concerned, and the success of the catch is 
an equally incalculable factor. The weather has also to 
be considered, for in storms it is impossible to dive, and 
the “forty-day northwest wind,” so called, is likely to 
take a large number of days out of the working calendar. 

The pearl banks stretch for miles and miles in the 
shallow waters of the Persian Gulf. Occasionally pearl- 
bearing oysters may be found where the water is so 
shallow that the very low tides of the first and middle of 
each lunar month leave the bottom of the sea quite un- 
covered. However, most of the diving is done in 
water that is at least four fathoms or twenty-four 
feet deep. Deeper than fifteen fathoms, that is to say 
ninety feet, no one dives, and the Arabs insist that at 
greater depth no pearl-bearing oysters are found. Any 
rocky bottom between these two limits of depths is suit- 
able territory in which to hunt for pearls. Certain banks 
are noted as affording good hunting, but most of the 
season’s fishing partakes largely of the nature of ex- 
ploration and guesswork, trying here and trying there in 
localities where the catch is reported as good. The num- 
ber of diving boats at work is large, but the territory 
available is vast and there is no crowding. The banks 
are scattered along the Arabian coast of the Persian Gulf 
for perhaps three hundred miles, so the opportunity for 
each boat is ample. 

These banks are as free as the air. No one exercises 
any control over them, nor claims the privilege of charg- 
ing rent for their use. The nominal tax of a diver’s share 


PEARL DIVERS 77 


taken from each Kuwait boat by the Sheikh of that city 
is simply a tax collected from his citizens. The Bahrein 
Sheikh collects a small fixed charge from each boat, the 
amount depending upon the number of men it carries. 
The Persian Gulf is a British lake as far as police service 
is concerned, and the British administrators with their 
usual common sense and practical benevolence have for- 
bidden the introduction of diving bells and dredges. As 
a result, the banks are worked solely by native boats. By 
the use of machinery and dredges, diving bells, and the 
like, undoubtedly the banks could be cleaned out in a few 
years with large profits to a few individuals, but it would 
mean the destruction of the whole diving community. 
The divers have much for which to thank Great Britain, 
although they do not realize it, much less appreciate it. 
About five months are spent in the actual work of 
diving. Every three weeks or so the boat returns to the 
most convenient harbor to take on fresh water and food 
and to have the boat’s bottom scraped. With these short 
intermissions the work is continuous throughout the en- 
tire season. The work is officially closed by order of the 
local sheikh on a certain day, so that the greedy captains 
cannot keep their men diving in water too cold to be safe. 
The captain then takes the season’s catch to some pearl 
merchant, and sells it for whatever the market affords. 
Not only are the pearl banks a free preserve maintained 
by the British for the Arab divers, but the markets where 
the pearls are sold are equally free. The Oriental is par- 
ticularly unscrupulous in manipulating markets, and in In- 
dia it sometimes happens that in spite of all the govern- 
ment can do, or at least in spite of all it feels at liberty to 
do, corners in food stuffs are engineered with sufficient 
success to bring much profit to the dealers and much suf- 


78 THE ARAB AT HOME 


fering to the common people. Nothing of that sort has 
ever happened in the pearl market. French dealers from 
Paris maintain an establishment throughout the year in 
Bombay where any man may come to sell his pearls. 
These men speak Arabic fluently and they buy the pearls 
in person. For about three months of the active season 
they send up one of the partners of the firm to act as 
purchaser in Bahrein itself, so that the Paris market is 
practically available to the poorest merchant and diver in 
Bahrein. It is a pleasure to testify to the fine character 
and courteous business-like dealings of these buyers. If 
Arabia’s contact with the West could be confined to men 
of their type, her path would have fewer thorns and 
stones. A host of smaller Arab and Indian buyers pick 
up a certain percentage of the catch and handle it, partly 
with an eye to legitimate business and partly as a specu- 
lative venture. ‘There is always a large amount of specu- 
lation in Bahrein and Bombay in connection with the 
fluctuations in the value of the pearls. Like every other 
sort of speculation, it carries with it a great temptation, 
and many are fascinated by the prospect of buying 
cheap and selling high. They often work with large © 
sums borrowed from others and end with a crash, com- 
pletely bankrupt. Fluctuations in the pearl market are 
very wide; pearls worth a thousand rupees this season 
may be worth double that or half of it the following 
season. Indeed on rare occasions they may drop to one- 
half their value overnight. Almost every one gets the 
fever for speculation during the season. I remember see- 
ing an old slave bring to a pearl dealer a few small and 
misshapen pearls. “I bought these,” he said, “for eight 
annas (sixteen cents); I am hoping to sell them for 
twelve annas.” 


PEARL DIVERS 79 


From the proceeds of the season’s catch one-fifth is 
turned over to the owner of the boat as rent for its use, 
and from the remainder the season’s expenses for food, 
water and the like are deducted. The money that is left 
represents the profits of the season. Each diver receives 
an equal share of this; each assistant two-thirds of a 
share. The captain, who has done no diving but has 
superintended the season’s campaign, receives a diver’s 
share, as does the sheikh of the town in some instances, 
this being the government tax upon the industry. 

This seems a good system. In theory it could hardly 
be improved, but in practice it could hardly be worse. 
The divers cannot read or write, so they have no way 
of knowing whether or not their accounts are correctly 
kept. They may not assist in, or even witness, the proc- 
ess of sale, so they have not the slightest control over the 
captain, nor any means of protecting themselves from 
dishonesty on his part. The captain himself is between 
the upper and nether millstones, for the only way he can 
rent a diving boat is by promising to sell his pearls to the 
owner of that boat, and from this owner he may receive 
not over fifty per cent of their market price. Even this 
reduced price the divers do not receive undiminished, for 
the captain enriches himself privately at their expense 
before the sale is reported. Then as if matters were not 
bad enough, almost without exception the ‘men are in 
their captain’s debt, and remain so throughout their lives. 

The fact that nearly all the divers are in debt is partly 
their own fault. When a man begins to dive, he could 
avoid borrowing money if he were at all determined to do 
so. The diving season lasts only five months at the out- 
side, and the season’s proceeds may be sufficient to live 
on for the whole year with economy and care. If they 


80 THE ARAB AT HOME 


are not, work can be found to tide over the winter months. 
That, however, is not the usual course of events. The 
boy who has five hundred rupees in his pocket for the first 
time in his life is eager to have a good time. Inside of a 
month or two all the money is gone. The captain en- 
courages this procedure, and assures the boy that he will 
gladly lend him any amount desired. The one thing that 
the captain desires is to lend this new diver some money, 
and his zeal to make himself accommodating and friendly 
is sometimes quite ludicrous. With most of his new men, 
unfortunately, there is little difficulty. The season’s pro- 
ceeds are gone inside of a few weeks, and before the win- 
ter is over, the diver is in debt for an amount equal to the 
sum he earned, or quite possibly even greater. 

The diver is now a slave for the rest of his life. It is 
probably easier for a negro slave on the Pirate Coast to 
escape than it is for a Bahrein diver to regain his freedom. 
As long as he is in debt he cannot change his employer, 
no matter how badly he is treated, nor can he leave the 
town except under bonds to return before the diving 
season begins. And he never will be able to get out of 
debt. He cannot read or write. There is no witness 
to the transactions that take place between the captain and 
himself. It is the recognized thing for divers to receive 
a loan of rice when the season begins, so that their fam- 
ilies may have something to eat while the head of the 
house is away. The sum written into the books is reg- 
ularly about fifty per cent greater than the market price 
of the rice. If necessary, entirely false entries are writ- 
ten in. The upshot of the matter is that these men never 
get out of debt, not one in a thousand of them. In seven 
years’ residence in Bahrein, I have never yet met a diver 


PEARL DIVERS 81 


who had “escaped from the account book,” as the Arabs 
put it. 

The amount that a season’s work brings in is now a 
matter of indifference. However great it may be, all 
that happens is that the sum is written to the diver’s credit 
on the books, and he is given an advance when he asks for 
it and the captain is willing to allow it. There are cer- 
tain times during the year when it is the custom to give 
these advances—the beginning and the close of the div- 
ing season and once or twice during the idle months. A 
good season means somewhat more liberal advances and 
a bad season smaller ones. The diver, however, is ab- 
solutely at the captain’s mercy in all this. As a matter 
of fact he gets in ordinary years an amount that is suffh- 
cient for life, and a more comfortable life than that of the 
Bedouin. The diver’s standards of life, however, are 
considerably below those of a date gardener in a good 
oasis. It is to the captain’s interest, of course, to have 
his men more or less well fed and satisfied, and to have 
the glamour of pearl diving maintained so that others 
will be attracted to the work, so a great show is made 
of calculating the season’s receipts and the rare man 
who is not in debt really does get a fairly liberal reward 
for the season’s exhausting labor. The crucial point, 
of course, is the law that prevents a mistreated and 
dissatisfied diver from changing his employer or from 
changing his residence. The captain could afford to 
give his men an amount that would allow them a con- 
siderably better mode of life. Doubtless if public sen- 
timent becomes too threatening, he will do so. The 
thing he will not do is to consent to any alteration of 
the law that at present delivers the debtor into his hands, 


82 THE ARAB AT HOME 


body and soul. The one redeeming feature of the system 
is that debts are not transmissible from father to son 
and theoretically each boy starts out with a clean slate, 
but too often the filial loyalty of the son is appealed to 
and he assumes his father’s debts. This plan allows the 
old man to retire from his life of hardship. Nothing 
suits the captain better, for thus the boy is deprived of 
his only chance to keep free from the slavery that has 
bound his father. 

But in spite of its financial drawbacks the work has a 
great fascination for the Arab, and this is largely be- 
cause of its element of chance. The Oriental is an in- 
veterate gambler, and the Arab is no exception. Some 
years the reward of an individual diver may be next to 
nothing. Another season he may make a _ thousand 
rupees, or about three hundred and fifty dollars. Over 
night the whole aspect of the season may change. A 
pearl worth fifty thousand rupees may be discovered at any 
time. The largest pearl sold locally during the past ten 
years brought one hundred and twenty thousand rupees. 
Arabs tell of boats whose divers have cleared over two 
thousand rupees or more in a season, but such mythical 
individuals are hard to find. It is far easier to find the 
man who has failed to make two rupees. However, to 
do the industry justice, such individuals are rare also. 
In fair seasons the average must lie somewhere between 
three hundred and seven hundred rupees, or one hundred 
to two hundred and fifty dollars. 

At the end of the season the profit, such as it is, is re- 
ported and the money divided. The divers each receive 
their share, and the assistants each two-thirds of a share. 
Men in debt receive a more or less liberal allowance, and 
the town is filled with rejoicing divers who have just re- 


PEARL DIVERS 83 


turned from four months or more of exhausting work, 
during which time they have been half starved and have 
had no opportunity of finding enjoyment and pleasure, 
legitimate or otherwise. The result is precisely what 
might be expected. Persian rugs in the bazaar go up 
to twice their proper price as does anything else that the 
divers may fancy. Meat reaches the highest price of the 
year, and the same is true of fish, which food the divers 
enjoy above everything else. Gambling is all but uni- 
versal. Immorality flourishes. This state of affairs 
lasts a month, perhaps two months. Then things grad- 
ually settle down into the regular winter stagnation until 
the next diving season. 

The same thing happens on a smaller scale when the 
season opens. Advances are made to the men. Feasts 
are held. There is much good fellowship and coopera- 
tion as the preparations for the season are completed. 
The chanting of singers can be heard late into the 
night. The money advanced by the captains makes a 
great show as it is spent. Strangers come in from far 
and near to go out and dive with the local men, and the 
city wears such a gala appearance as it scarcely puts on 
again till the next season. 

It is thus that an astonishingly attractive tinsel surface 
is maintained over an industry and a manner of life that 
even for Arabia are bitterly sordid and exhausting. The 
pearl diver’s life is one of poverty, hard and cruel. Ina 
bad season it is with difficulty that he gets enough to eat. 
His lot is distinctly worse than that of the date cultivator. 
Diving wrecks the health as no other Arabian occupation 
wrecks it. The high pressure of the water at great depths 
frequently bursts the ear drums, and it is a safe conjec- 
ture that no community of equal size anywhere can show 


84 THE ARAB AT HOME 


such a number of chronic running ears. The lungs are 
often affected, and all along the diving coast pulmonary 
tuberculosis is common. ‘This is not remarkable when we 
know that in the opening days of the season the men fre- 
quently dive in water that is so cold that they spit blood. 
Many return from their summer of semi-starvation and 
unsuitable diet of rice and dates with their gums sore and 
bleeding from scurvy. 

Living conditions in the community are what might be 
expected. Disease is common. ‘The death rate is high. 
Poverty is universal. In good years the standard of life 
is none too high. In bad years it is reduced almost to 
the starvation point. During a hard year the food of the 
divers is poor in quality and scanty in amount almost to 
the degree of partial starvation. They usually live in 
date-stick huts, and in the winter must frequently shiver 
in unwarmed houses because they have no money for 
fuel. 

In such communities there is little or no interest in 
education. A diver has reason enough, one might sup- 
pose, for wanting to know how to read and write and 
keep his own accounts, but it is rare that one of them 
knows as much as that, and apparently it is equally un- 
usual to find one who is trying to educate his children so 
that they may escape the slavery that binds him. The 
boys are frequently taken out to learn pearl diving while 
they are still under twelve. In Bahrein the American 
Mission has tried for many years to develop educational 
work of an elementary sort, but has found it practically 
impossible because there is no demand for such things. 
The considerable Persian community in the city has made 
efforts from time to time to establish educational work 
for its own boys. The Persian schools exist for a little 





A PEARL DIVER AND HIS HOUSE 


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PEARL DIVERS 85 


time and then break up and disappear. Few care whether 
they live or die. One of the Bahrein sheikhs made a visit 
to England at the invitation of the British Government 
about three years ago. On his return he collected nearly 
a hundred thousand dollars for the founding of a free 
public school. A large building was projected, but by 
inefficiency and carelessness, if not worse, the entire sum 
was spent on the first story of that building. Now the 
project languishes and seems about to die, purely because 
nobody cares whether it lives or not. Even Koran schools 
are few in number and poor in quality. There is nothing 
like the diffusion of education that prevails in the inland 
desert towns. 

Although the vast majority of the people in these towns 
are pearl divers, there are a few fishermen and a smaller 
number who gain a precarious livelihood as sailors in 
Arab sailing ships. There are abundant supplies of fish 
in all these harbors, but fishing is a very unpopular occu- 
pation. It is hard, disagreeable work, and the men must 
frequently be out in the little boats all night. When times 
are good and the captain’s allowances liberal, nobody is 
willing to fish. When the pearl catch is bad or the price 
low every one feels poor, many eke out their small re- 
sources by this additional work, and fish becomes plenti- 
ful and cheap. 

There were once many sea-going sail boats engaged in 
carrying various cargoes from port to port in this dis- 
trict, for the Arabs are bold navigators and can travel in 
these ships from India to the Suez Canal. They still 
bring goods from the various East African ports to 
Arabia, and rarely fail to make these long trips success- 
fully, but the work is hard, and since the steamers of the 
“Tngleez’” have absorbed more and more of the better 


86 THE ARAB AT HOME 


trade, the profits of a sailing boat have diminished and the 
percentage of the population that supports itself this way 
is very small. 

However, since all the food and clothing of the com- 
munity must be imported, and in places even the water 
and building material, trade in the Persian Gulf reaches 
large proportions. Rice is imported by hundreds of thou- 
sands of sacks each year. A special steamer of the Stan- 
dard Oil Company brings kerosene oil from New York. 
There is a large importation of the stronger and cheaper 
grades of foreign cloth. The rice and kerosene and the 
various imports from India, such as dishes and lanterns 
and all sorts of gaudy trinkets, are brought in steamers. 
The British India Steamship Company has a line of coast- 
ing steamers which call every week at the larger Gulf 
ports. Some food materials are brought from Mesopo- 
tamia and from Persia, and these smaller importations 
from near-by ports are often brought in sail boats. All 
of these imports are paid for indirectly with pearls. The 
last season before the Great War the value of the pearls 
marketed in Bahrein was estimated at three crores or 
about $9,000,000. 

There are no merchants in the whole peninsula that are 
so rich as the pearl merchants of the East Coast. There 
are a few of these merchants that could rank as million- 
aires if their fortunes were measured in American money. 
These men are more or less educated and have trav- 
eled extensively. Many of them take newspapers and 
read modern books. Their establishments are places of 
great luxury and comfort, with many of the outward 
signs of modern civilization. Their houses and offices 
may be lit by electric lights, and their taste extends even 
to motor launches and automobiles. ‘The larger ports of 


PEARL DIVERS 87 


Kuwait, Bahrein and Dibai have also a large community 
of artisans and lesser merchants. ‘These serve not simply 
the local diving population, but also act as manufacturers 
and wholesalers for the whole of Central Arabia. Prac- 
tically the entire import and export trade for the in- 
terior of the peninsula goes through these three towns, 
and the merchant and artisan communities are large and 
prosperous. 

It is difficult to be optimistic about the general situa- 
tion in these pearl-diving communities. The actual ma- 
terial condition of the divers is bad enough, but worse 
by far is the discouragement and despair that have set- 
tled down upon the whole community. No one tries 
very hard to get out of debt, for he knows that barring 
some unforeseen miracle, he cannot do so no matter how 
long and hard he works and how economically he lives. 
There is little thrift; a stranger is often shocked by the 
waste that divers show in their personal and household 
expenditures. There is not the slightest effort, for 1n- 
stance, to discover what sort of clothing will give the most 
service for the money invested. Expensive or cheap, 
economical or wasteful, it is all the same. With luck 
when the present supply of money is gone, the captain will 
make another liberal allowance, and nothing better than 
that can be hoped for, no matter what economy and thrift 
are practised. 

The conditions outlined above are those that obtain in 
the northern towns, chiefly in Bahrein. ‘There is a sec- 
ond large diving community in the region known as the 
Pirate Coast, whose capital and largest city is Dibai. Its 
piratical character is a matter of history now long: past, 
but it still makes a good deal of trouble for the British 
who police the Gulf and maintain order along the coast. 


88 THE ARAB AT HOME 


Political troubles became acute some ten years ago or 
more, and for many years no foreigner was allowed to 
land on that coast. It was a double pleasure, then, to be 
invited to visit that part of Arabia four years ago. It 
is the one remaining nest of slavery in eastern Arabia 
and the district is still troublesome at times to the bearers 
of constituted authority, but nothing of that sort is ap- 
parent to the visiting doctor. The rich and the poor 
alike are most courteous and pleasant hosts. 

In this district the pearl-diving system is the same as 
in Bahrein, but the men do not work nearly so hard. 
They set out to work later in the season, although if the 
temperature of the water were the only element in their 
decision, they might be at work sooner, for they lie far- 
ther to the south and their water warms up considerably 
before that near Bahrein. They return to the shore 
oftener and show much less energy in their work. The 
pearl banks in the region of the Pirate Coast are less rich 
than the Bahrein banks, and as might be expected, their 
catch is much less valuable than that of the boats farther 
north. It is interesting to see that divers on the Pirate 
Coast live at about the same general level as those in 
Bahrein. They could not live at a much lower level, for 
it would mean starvation. The larger receipts in the 
Bahrein area have as their only result the creation of a 
much richer class of pearl merchants than the similar class 
on the Pirate Coast. 

Unquestionably it is the slaves who have reduced the 
standards of what a day’s and a season’s work ought to 
be to its present level on the Pirate Coast. Most of these 
slaves are negroes from Africa. A few are Baluchs 
from the Makran coast between India and Persia. They 
do not number over one-half the divers, probably far 


PEARL DIVERS 89 


less than that, but their attitude of listlessness and in- 
difference has tended to pull all the rest down to their 
level. Just why slavery never took root in Bahrein, why 
the Arabs there never bought slaves to do their diving, 
is difficult to see. It seems such an easy way to get rich. 
One reason why Bahrein is a much stronger community 
financially now than its southern competitor is the fact 
that slaves have never been brought in to any large extent. 

It is a great temptation, this opportunity to have one’s 
work done by slaves, and nothing could seem to offer 
greater profits. The slaves have no rights. They can 
be punished if they show less diligence than their owner 
thinks adequate. They receive no wages at all, only such 
food and clothing as their master sees fit to give them. 
Arabs are not the only people that have been deceived 
by this fallacy. We believed it ourselves a hundred years 
ago. It has been a disastrous policy from every stand- 
point. Nothing could exceed the indifference and lazi- 
ness of the average slave under such conditions. The 
money spent on food and clothing for these slaves brings 
a smaller return in service rendered than any wages paid 
in Arabia. Of that much any one is sure who has 
watched them work, or rather has watched their very suc- 
cessful efforts to avoid doing any work. Prostitution is 
commoner on that coast than in any other eastern Arabian 
community. Slave women are the toys of any man who 
buys them, and what the Pirate Coast sowed in its treat- 
ment of helpless women slaves, it is reaping in an atmos- 
phere of degradation that envelops the entire community 
from the lowest to the highest. 

As passive resisters these slaves are superb. I have 
seen one of them, disgruntled by some mistreatment or 
insult, simply lie down on the job and no expostulation 


90 THE ARAB AT HOME 


or threat seemed to stir him. They are exceedingly 
superstitious, too, and are frequently visited by a fa- 
miliar spirit, who takes complete possession of the indi- 
vidual. The Arabs on the Pirate Coast are not espe- 
cially superstitious. They are Sunni Mohammedans, 
and that sort of faith does not readily lend itself to super- 
stition. However, when one of these negro slaves starts 
up as if suddenly crazed, and runs around shouting and 
gesticulating and talking earnestly in a changed voice as 
if a new personality had possessed him, even the hard 
Arab masters are a good deal awed and hesitate to inflict 
the punishment they had planned. These visitations may 
come at the most opportune times, and it takes more 
hardihood than the Arab usually possesses to disregard 
such a warning. I have had such a slave jump suddenly 
from the operating table when all preparations were com- 
plete and I had the knife in my hand to begin an opera- 
tion for the removal of a tumor from his neck. The 
operation was to be done under local anesthesia, so the 
patient was fully conscious. We were thankful that he 
did not wait till ten minutes later when the operation 
would have been well under way. These slaves are not 
shamming in any ordinary sense. They thoroughly be- 
lieve in the genuineness of such manifestations. They 
do not thus escape every whipping, but these visitations 
undoubtedly do protect them from a certain number of 
terrible punishments at the hands of their Arab masters. 

In these diving communities the actual control even 
of the civil powers rests in the hands of the diving cap- 
tains and the pearl merchants. The town of Ras el 
Kheima has a number of divers who regularly dive 
in boats the captains of which live in Dibai and Sharja. 
During one winter war of a small sort broke out between 


PEARL DIVERS 91 


the Sheikh of Ras el Kheima and some of the inland 
tribes of that district, and this fighting was pushed quite 
vigorously, the city being more or less in a state of siege. 
It was not difficult to hold the port itself against attack, 
but as the fighting continued, the diving season came on. 
The merchants of Sharja and Dibai then sent representa- 
tives to settle the matter, for their divers were being held 
in the city for its defense and had not reported for div- 
ing. The Sheikh was far from willing to make peace, 
but eventually the pressure of these men of money was 
too much for him, and he was compelled to settle with 
the tribesmen so his subjects could go out and work for 
the men whose debtors they were. 

Conditions in a diving community are not pleasant to 
see. They seem the more pitiful because they are so un- 
necessary. Why should not any dozen men who are out 
of debt, or a dozen beginners, club together, borrow the 
capital for the season’s supplies, or better, save their 
money for a season or two and then have the capital suff- 
cient for the enterprise? One-half of an ordinary year’s 
profits would probably meet all expenses and another 
half season’s profits would buy the boat that carries the 
men. The pearl banks are free, the markets are free. It 
would be easy to purchase supplies at the same price that 
every one else pays. The proceeds of such a group would 
be subject to the same element of chance as every pearl 
diver’s but in any case should be at least twice those 
they receive at present, inasmuch as the captain’s and the 
pearl merchant’s extortions would be avoided. Any 
dozen divers might do it. The skill required is most 
moderate and the necessary capital within easy reach. 

As a matter of fact the experiment is occasionally 
tried, but I never knew it to last through more than one 


92 THE ARAB AT HOME 


season. The men go out and dive in this cooperative way 
for one summer, but they are back again the next year 
as parts of the old machine. What drives them back? 
From a distance it looks like insanity, but any one ac- 
quainted with the local conditions knows this result is in- 
evitable. The Arabs simply cannot cooperate to that ex- 
tent. They cannot trust each other even in such an asso- 
ciation. In a community where simple business partner- 
ship between two men in the bazaar is almost unknown, 
it is futile to expect a dozen divers to codperate success- 
fully in an enterprise like diving, where mutual forbear- 
ance and mutual confidence would be essential, and where 
the catch might be good sometimes but quite certainly 
would be bad at other times. The road out of the diver’s 
present trouble is obvious enough, but it is not a possible 
road for the Arab as he is constituted at present. No 
road could be more impossible. A _ little codperation 
would save him from the exactions of dishonest captains 
and greedy pearl merchants, but of that cooperation the 
Arab is incapable. So since he is unable to organize his 
industry for his own benefit, it is organized for him by 
others for their interest, and it goes without saying that 
the organizer exploits the men under him to the utmost 
limit. 

The fundamental difficulty is in the divers themselves. 
The majority of the divers of Bahrein are Persians, or 
belong to that semi-Persian community known as the 
“Baharina.” They are cheated and defrauded by their 
employers to a degree almost beyond belief. Their eco- 
nomic condition is pitiable. Not so the comparatively 
small number of divers who come in from the desert. 
The Bedouins who come and dive are never exploited. 
A captain who attempted to cheat them would lose his 


PEARL DIVERS 93 


head and he knows it. Therefore these Bedouins, who 
avoid debt as they would the plague, receive a much better 
reward for their work than the others. These wild men 
bow to no authority except that of Allah in Heaven, and 
are not easy victims. They usually club together and 
dive in boats by themselves. They keep out of debt, and 
so have no limitations to their independence. I asked 
one of them once in a jocose way whether he was sure 
that the captain was honest in the reports that were sub- 
mitted as to the prices secured for pearls and the season’s 
proceeds. “Ah,” said the diver with the broadest sort 
of an engaging smile. “What is that you say? Does 
the captain lie about the price of the pearls he sells for 
us? No, indeed, he does not lie. He tells the truth. If 
he should try to cheat us, ha-a.’’ Here the smile ex- 
tended till it took in his whole face, and he drew the edge 
of his hand across his own neck in a gesture the meaning 
of which could not be misunderstood. 

The most conspicuous example, however, of divers 
who are out of debt and therefore out of bondage, is to be 
found in Katar. Here is a small diving community 
where practically all of the men are out of debt, and the 
atmosphere of freedom and equality, good fellowship and 
comfort is a refreshing contrast to the conditions in Bah- 
rein. The men show real independence and self-respect. 
These divers can change their employers if the treatment 
they receive is not satisfactory. They can move to an- 
other city to live. In a word, they are free men. Yet 
the system under which they work is no different from 
that obtaining in Bahrein. It is the divers who are dif- 
ferent. They are Bedouins or descended from Bedouins. 
They keep out of debt and as a result the system works 


very well. 


94 THE ARAB AT HOME 


I once listened with interest to a merchant from Katar 
as he gave his opinion of the situation in his own town 
as compared with that of Bahrein. “I understand,” I re- 
marked, “that most of the Katar divers are out of debt.” 

“Oh,” said he, “the divers in Katar where I come from 
are none of them in debt.” 

“And their condition,” I persisted, “should be some- 
what better and more comfortable.” 

“That requires no discussion; of course they are very 
much better off if they are out of debt.” 

“Well now,” I asked, “how does it happen that divers 
in Katar keep out of debt while here in Bahrein almost 
every diver is heavily in debt to his captain?” 

“The trouble is this,’ replied the merchant, and I 
thought I could discern in his tone a little envy of the 
wealthy Bahrein merchants. ‘We have no powerful 
ruler in Katar. It is no use to lend a diver money. He 
will borrow all you are willing to lend and then go to 
work for some one else in spite of the debt. If at the 
season’s end you try to arrest him or to compel him to 
pay, he simply leaves the city and returns to his tribe in 
the desert, and it is impossible to get him back. At least 
our sheikh does not get them back and recover the money. 
So the money lent is a complete loss. The merchants will 
not lend money under such circumstances and so nobody 
is in debt.” Anda vision rose up in my own mind of the 
great free stretches of the desert and the unconquerable 
men that the desert produces—men who look on property 
as a light thing and who compel merchants and even 
sheikhs to bow to their independence of spirit and their 
contempt for the filthy lucre of this world. 


CHUA Dari 
THE MOUNTAIN. DISGRIG A OR OMAN 


HE two southern corners of the Arabian penin- 
sula as it projects into the Indian Ocean are 
covered by low mountains between which are 

inhabited valleys. Oman, the southeast corner, is the 
most fertile section of all eastern Arabia and at the same 
time the most isolated. The mountains are great rugged 
rocks, not high enough to have snow on their peaks, and 
utterly bare as far as vegetation is concerned. A more 
forbidding and at the same time more magnificent land- 
scape it would be hard to find. 

Between these bare rugged mountains are to be found 
valleys that in comparison are beautiful indeed. The 
rainfall in the mountain districts is not sufficient for 
agricultural purposes, but as in Central Arabia it is suf- 
ficient to furnish a certain amount of dry pasturage for 
goats and camels throughout the year, and in this way 
the mountain country supports a small community of 
Bedouins who have many of the characteristics of their 
brethren in inland Arabia. This community, however, is 
small. The great majority of the inhabitants of Oman 
are date gardeners settled in the irrigated valleys and the 
rich strip of land between the mountains and the sea. 
The harbors along this rocky coast are very fine, and in 
the days when all commerce depended on the Arab sailing 


vessels, these Oman towns had great commercial impor- 
95 


96 THE ARAB AT HOME 


tance. Muscat, perhaps the best harbor of all, was the 
center of the slave trade once and at a later day the center 
of the arms traffic, which gave the British Government 
much trouble till about five years before the Great War. 
These arms were imported from Europe and were re- 
exported to the Persian and Baluchistan coast. They 
were destined for Afghanistan and the provinces of 
Central Asia, and they made the northwest frontier of 
India a very uncomfortable place. 

Oman is a curiously isolated island of Arab life. On 
one side is the sea and by that route Baluchistan and 
Persia are nearer neighbors than is any port of impor- 
tance in Arabia. On the other side is the Great Southern 
Desert, called by the Arabs the Ruba el Khali (“the 
empty quarter’). This desert, which fills up a large part 
of the southern half of the peninsula, is by Arab testi- 
mony entirely uninhabited by either man or beast. From 
the top of Jebel Akhdar, the highest range in Oman, it 
can be seen stretching away into the apparently infinite 
distance. Into that abode of death even the hardiest 
Bedouin does not venture. There is no water and no life 
there. I never met but one man who had penetrated that 
desert. He was a sheikh and to reach Mecca quickly 
he crossed the eastern end of it. He left a trail of dead 
camels behind him, but he himself came through alive. 

The heat in these southern districts is extreme. Aden, 
on the extreme southern end of the peninsula, is supposed 
to be the hottest place where Britain holds sway, but the 
port of Muscat in Oman is nearly as bad. What makes 
these particular ports worse than they would otherwise be, 
is the fact that they are hemmed in on all sides by high, 
bare, rugged rocks, which imprison the heat and shut out 
all the breeze, with a resulting temperature on summer 





A CARAVAN ENTERING MUSCAT 





MOUNTAIN DISTRICT OF OMAN 97 


afternoons that is quite insupportable. Even the Arabs 
try to get out of these places for the summer months. 

Between the mountains and the sea is a level, fertile 
strip which varies in width but is frequently several miles 
wide. This is the richest agricultural area in the whole 
Arabian peninsula. Water for irrigation is abundant, 
and the district is filled with villages and gardens with a 
delightful atmosphere of quiet comfort and prosperity. 
The valleys between the mountains are nearly as good. 
The soil leaves nothing to be desired and there is a very 
considerable supply of water. I have seen several places 
where the available water was more than was needed and 
it was allowed to run to waste because no use could be 
made of it. 

Flowing springs are common and the pitch of the land 
makes irrigation easy. Underground waterways, con- 
structed at great expense of labor and money, carry this 
water for long distances. These are kept in order most 
carefully, for water is the life of all Arabian communities. 
Sometimes the water is carried through surface runways. 
I remember one watering station perhaps three miles out 
in the desert, fed by water brought through a surface 
viaduct all that distance. The country was rough and the 
source of the water was not even in sight. 

Oman gardens are beautiful, with dates and alfalfa, 
lemons and pomegranates, all raised in profusion. Even 
mangoes are grown. ‘There is no other part of Arabia 
where there is such a variety of tropical and sub-tropical 
fruits. Wheat is cultivated in some quantity. Far in- 
land in Oman I once counted one hundred and thirty-seven 
kernels in a head of wheat, by far the largest number that 
I have ever seen. There are fields of sugar cane and 
some local manufacture of a very inferior sugar. Con- 


98 THE ARAB AT HOME 


siderable cotton is grown, and a good supply of vegetables 
as well. Almost anything seems to grow in Oman. 

The sea is full of fish, and for some distance inland 
fish is cheaper and more popular than any meat available. 
There are no refrigerator cars in that part of the world, 
but supplying fish to inland points is a well-developed in- 
dustry. The fish are cooked before starting on their 
journey and then carried as far as a fast donkey can take 
them in thirty-six hours, which is a good distance. At 
the end of this journey they would hardly tempt a west- 
ern palate, but in those inland towns they are esteemed a 
great delicacy. 

The people in Oman are descendants of the Khawarij, 
one of the earliest of the many divisions of Islam, prot- 
estants against the scandalous laxities of the Damascus 
and Baghdad caliphs. Part of this puritan sect settled 
in North Africa and part among the mountains and val- 
leys and harbors of Oman. Their location and their the- 
ological convictions both tended to isolate them from the 
rest of Arabia, and they form a very distinct unit today. 
Slavery has always flourished in that part of Arabia, 
perhaps because it was easier to use a large number of 
slaves profitably there than elsewhere. Whatever the 
reason, a far larger admixture of negro blood is seen in 
Oman than anywhere else in the peninsula. In addition 
there has been a large admixture from the Makran coast 
of Baluchistan. Fifty years ago and less, there was con- 
tinual intertribal warfare in Baluchistan, and the raiders 
would often bring their prisoners and sell them as slaves 
to the Arabs of Oman. There is thus a considerable 
strain of Baluch blood in the community. This pro- 
cess came to a stop with the British occupation of Bal- 
uchistan, but there are many Baluch slaves in Oman 


MOUNTAIN DISTRICT OF OMAN — 99 


who can tell of the old days and the old conditions be- 
fore the British came. 

These mountains are very inaccessible in places and 
harbor some curious remnants of an older civilization 
which must certainly antedate Mohammedanism. in the 
peninsula, if indeed they are not remnants of a social 
structure far older than that. In the mountains behind 
Ras el Kheima lives a community which talks a second 
language bearing no resemblance to Arabic. They re- 
semble the Arabs physically and use Arabic in their inter- 
course with the outside world, but for conversation among 
themselves they have an entirely different tongue. They 
have some remarkable customs. After the two impor- 
tant meals of the day they gather in circles and howl 
vigorously for about five minutes under the direction of 
a leader, the whole process reminding one of nothing so 
much as college boys rooting at a football game. It is 
evidently a remnant of some non-Islamic religion. One 
wonders whether in the fastnesses of their mountains they 
are Mohammedan at all. The Mohammedans of the 
valleys look with grave disapproval on these irregularities 
when they have an occasional opportunity to see them. 

There are stories current among the Arabs of similar 
remnants on the other side of the peninsula in the Yemen 
mountains of the southwest, where even cannibalism is 
said to be practised. It is well, however, to take such 
stories with a grain of salt, for the Arab is fond of tall 
stories, and the inhabitants of Oman seem especially sus- 
ceptible to their charm. A favorite in the district near 
the Great Southern Desert concerns a place or places 
where the sand is so soft and light that although perfectly 
dry, it engulfs men and animals and other solid bodies 
as if it were water. 


100 THE ARAB AT HOME 


Social life in Oman does not differ significantly from 
that seen in the oases of inland Arabia, except that there 
has been less contact with the outside world and per- 
haps as a result of that lack, or perhaps because of the 
climate and a racial inheritance which includes a distinct 
negro element, there is less intensity to life. No one 
seems anxious to accumulate great wealth or fiercely 
desirous of exterminating infidels. Whatever the rea- 
son, the surprising thing about Oman society is its easy- 
going nature. There is a greater amount of comfort 
among the rank and file of the people and a more peaceful 
attitude toward life in general than prevails elsewhere in 
Arabia. No one works very hard, but there appears to 
be plenty to eat and on holidays everybody seems to have 
bright new clothes. There is more obesity in Oman than 
in all the rest of the peninsula put together. 

The use of perfumes is especially common in Oman. 
A man’s clothes are almost black with the dirt that has 
clung to his oiled and perfumed clothing, and about him 
are to be perceived smells ancient and modern. He lux- 
uriates in such a heavenly atmosphere. A traveler in 
that part of the world remonstrated with his servant be- 
cause of his obvious need of a bath, obvious indeed to 
more senses than one. But the servant had just spent a 
rupee for perfume which had been smeared over his body 
and clothes. “No, indeed, I cannot take a bath now and 
wash off all that perfume. How then should I get any 
value at all from my rupee?” 

The gardens of Oman are in large part worked by their 
owners, something that is rarely seen in places like Katif 
and Hasa. The volume of trade is small as compared 
with that of large centers such as Bahrein or Kuwait, 
because there is no large Bedouin community to be served, 





OMAN TYPES 





MOUNTAIN DISTRICT OF OMAN 101 


and also because no single great center of trade seems to 
have developed. As a result there are many small mer- 
chants scattered over the country in the various towns, 
but no enormously rich dealers in one great city. Matra 
is the center for the district, but its merchants are not very 
rich judged by Bahrein standards, and their isolation 
from the interior is so complete that they hardly affect the 
general situation. The artisan class is quite well devel- 
oped, as might be expected where the community as a 
whole has enough money to buy comfortable clothes and 
a certain number of utensils. Even the poorest sleep on 
beds and have a fair amount of household furniture in 
their houses. The number of shops is large, most of the 
trade being in the hands of small dealers. 

The result of these economic conditions is a society 
which shows a division between the rich and the poor, and 
to some extent between the land-owners and the culti- 
vators, but a division not marked by the usual arrogance 
on the one hand or servility on the other. A surpris- 
ing atmosphere of good fellowship and democracy per- 
meates the community. The sheikh, who is often the 
only man of wealth in the town, holds a reception for the 
citizens of the place every morning. The crowd enter- 
tained in the reception room will probably include a 
number of slaves, who, like the rest, spend a good part of 
the morning in a friendly chat with the strangers who 
may be enjoying the sheikh’s hospitality and the other 
citizens of the town who come in for the general fraternal 
talk-fest. Every one has time to sit and visit for half 
the morning before going to work. News is exchanged 
and opinions are compared and a considerable community 
spirit developed. 

Breakfast is served at these morning receptions. 


102 THE ARAB AT HOME 


_ Bread with sugar sprinkled thickly on it and cooking fat 
poured over it is passed around. Oman bread is baked 
in great round pancakes a foot and half in diameter. and 
about the thickness of blotting paper. It is made of 
whole wheat flour, and these loaves of bread piled one on 
top of the other with sugar and fat added make a dish 
that is fit for a king. This preliminary dish is followed 
by a second of somewhat the same sort if the entertainer 
wishes to show unusual hospitality or is entertaining some 
unusual guest. Coffee is served several times. 

The making and serving of coffee is an affair of great 
importance all over Arabia, and nowhere more so than in 
Oman. It is roasted fresh while the guests sit talking or 
eating their sugary breakfast bread. A fire is built and 
a cupful of green coffee berries is poured into a long- 
handled, little, round frying-pan. These berries are 
roasted until they are quite black and pounded to a pow- 
der at once in the pestle. Men of any considerable wealth 
have brass pestles, and those with a clear bell-like tone 
are greatly prized. The making of coffee is thus ad- 
vertised to the entire community. As the slave wields the 
pestle, he pounds with a musical rhythm that gives the 
effect of a miniature church bell. The slaves love the 
rhythm and the publicity and often have to be restrained 
in the interest of conversation in the room. 

There are many slaves to do the work in Oman, but 
even they seem to lead no very strenuous life and to be 
abundantly nourished. They are well treated, much bet- 
ter than their unfortunate brethren in the pearl-diving 
districts of the Pirate Coast, and altogether they appear 
quite contented with their lot. Some can read and write 
and many of them are the trusted confidants of their mas- 
ters. There are the usual number of blind and other 


MOUNTAIN DISTRICT OF OMAN 103 


beggars in these Oman communities, and there are a few 
lepers. In such a leisurely and benevolent atmosphere 
these beggars have an easy time of it. 

Religiously the inhabitants of Oman are earnest and 
faithful in all the observances of their own faith; none in- 
deed are more so, but they are tolerant and open-minded 
to a degree unknown elsewhere in Arabia. Religious dis- 
cussions are not taboo in that country, and I have even 
had men ask for a Christian service so that they might 
come and see what it was like. The women have 
mosques of their own to worship in, a thing that I have 
never seen elsewhere. Everywhere else in Arabia the 
women are supposed to pray but not to enter a mosque 
with the men. Such a thing would be unthinkable, so 
they are universally condemned to pray at home and 
forego the advantages of congregational prayer. In 
Oman only are they provided with their own mosques 
where they can pray just as the men do. No part of 
eastern Arabia has come so little into contact with the 
outside world as this isolated district, but nevertheless 
there is no section of it anywhere that has such a diffusion 
of elementary education. A large percentage of the 
women can read in some of the Oman communities and 
this, as far as I know Arabia, is a condition quite unique. 

In spite of the general prosperity, family life in Oman 
is on a plane almost as high as among the primitive Bed- 
ouins of the desert. Women do not veil strictly as they 
do in the towns farther north, and there is a surprising 
degree of comradeship in married life compared with 
other parts of Arabia. I have been in guest houses in 
Oman where the women of the house sat with the men 
entertaining visitors. The women were veiled, of course, 
for it was a public guest room and any one might enter. 


104 THE ARAB AT HOME 


In more private associations, when we were the only vis- 
itors, veils were sometimes entirely dispensed with. 
There is considerable participation by the wife in the ad- 
ministration of the establishment. Several times I 
have been entertained in houses where the man of the 
house was absent and where his wife took charge of all 
arrangements for our comfort, coming to the guest hall 
in person to see that we were adequately cared for. Al- 
together the family life, as it is seen from the outside, is 
far and away better than that which obtains in most parts 
of Arabia and nearly as pure and as fine as among the 
Bedouins themselves. There seems more hope for fu- 
ture progress in Oman than in any other province of 
Arabia. There is an economic basis broad enough to 
support a real civilization, and there might perhaps be 
further resources that scientific well-digging could bring 
to light. Whether or not there are mineral deposits in 
the mountains could only be determined by a competent 
geologist. However, in the diffusion of material com- 
fort among all classes and the development of a feeling 
of unstratified social equality throughout the entire com- 
munity, as well as in the growth of a community spirit of 
hospitality and brotherhood, the Oman towns have much 
to teach the rest of Arabia. 


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CHAPTER) VI 
THE ARABS OF MESOPOTAMIA 


ESOPOTAMIA does not belong to Arabia 
M geographically. It lies to the north of the 
peninsula and includes the territory between 
the mountains of Asia Minor on the north, the mountains 
of Persia on the east, the Syrian desert on the west and 
the Persian Gulf on the south. The area enclosed be- 
tween these limits is enormous. ‘These are its natural 
boundaries, but politically the territory included takes 
in certain districts that belong to Persia and Turkey as 
well as the kingdom of Mesopotamia. It is of interest 
to include Mesopotamia in any discussion of Arab life, 
for although the Mesopotamians are not in Arabia geo- 
graphically, nor even politically, racially they are Arabs 
as truly as the inhabitants of Nejd or the dwellers in the 
valleys of Oman. Practically all of the inhabitants of 
Mesopotamia are Arabic speaking and Arabic in origin, 
the chief exceptions being the numerous Jews who have 
come into the country from the north and the small com- 
munity of Sabaeans, or fire-worshippers, who are a rem- 
nant of the people that the Arabs found inhabiting the 
country. The Arab is the dominant element, and the 
others together would probably not amount to five per 
cent of the whole. 
The character of the country is most easily understood 


if we start by saying that Mesopotamia is the enormous 
105 


106 THE ARAB AT HOME 


delta of two rivers—the Euphrates and the Tigris. With 
insignificant exceptions, it is one vast level expanse made 
up of the rich silt that these rivers have brought down. 
It contains no physical features whatever that call for 
comment except the plains and the rivers, unless we men- 
tion that combination of plain and river which covers a 
considerable area, namely the marsh. In the past this 
district was the seat of some of the great empires of 
antiquity—Assyria and Babylonia and Persia. When 
Xenophon marched over it about 400 B.C., it was and 
had been for centuries one of the world’s centers of power 
and productiveness. It supported a vast population in 
those days, how vast no one knows, but the ruins of an- 
cient cities suggest that it must have been very great in- 
deed. The basis of its greatness was the use of the 
Tigris and Euphrates rivers for irrigation. By this 
means the whole country had been transformed into one 
vast garden. The area was not so large then as it is 
now, for year by year the delta encroaches on the sea. 
It is supposed that in ancient times the sea reached up 
as far as Gurna at least, and that is a hundred miles from 
the present mouth of the river. 

Under the Mohammedan caliphs of Baghdad the irri- 
gation dams, waterways and smaller canals that had ex- 
isted for centuries were allowed to fall into greater and 
greater decay. The Mongol invasion of Mesopotamia, 
which culminated in the capture of Baghdad in 1258 a. D., 
resulted in the complete destruction of this ancient sys- 
tem of irrigation. Ever since it has been in ruins, but 
the courses of the larger waterways are still distinguish- 
able, and engineers tell us that they can decipher the en- 
tire system. The country has been a desert since that 
day, populated by nomad tribes who roam over the vast 


© Underwood & Under 


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A POAT) ON THESIGRIS» RIVER 





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THE ARABS OF MESOPOTAMIA © 107 


level plains and raise, by means of the scanty rainfall, 
a meager amount of wheat and barley in favorable 
seasons. 

Along the rivers in their upper courses are a few gar- 
dens, irrigated by means of various draught animals and 
water-wheels, which elevate water from the stream to the 
level of the land above. At Gurna the Tigris and 
Euphrates join to form one river and at Mohammerah the 
Karun empties into this united stream. The three rivers 
thus flow into the ocean as one enormous waterway, 
known locally as the ‘Arab River.” For the last hun- 
dred miles before the sea is reached, the fresh water of 
the river ebbs and flows with the tides, and by cutting 
outlets along the river banks gardens may be automati- 
cally irrigated twice a day if so much water is desired. 
Along these lower stretches each bank of the river is 
lined with beautiful gardens, which reach a depth of some 
miles in places and extend in practically an unbroken ex- 
panse all the way up to Basra and in less prolific culture 
even as far as Gurna. These date gardens are beautiful 
things, beautiful for what they are now, and more beau- 
tiful still as a suggestion of what all Mesopotamia might 
be. They are also one of the most melancholy things in 
the world as reminders of what the past developed and 
the present has wasted. 

The land has enormous resources for agricultural de- 
velopment. ‘That whole vast district may be made into 
the garden spot of the earth. The soil is the best in the 
world, river silt hundreds of feet deep. It is as level as 
a parlor floor, with just enough pitch between the big 
rivers, and between the north and south, to make irriga- 
tion easy. All that is necessary is a perfected system of 
irrigation, and although the necessary investment would 


108 THE ARAB AT HOME 


be large, running up to hundreds of millions of dollars, 
it should bring excellent returns. The trouble hitherto 
has been the unstable character of the government and 
the consequent risk to which any such investment would 
be exposed. During the time of the spring high waters, 
a disaffected tribe might obtain control of some important 
dam and with one stick of dynamite destroy nearly the 
whole system. But with a stable government the pro- 
ject should be one of great promise. The water is at 
hand, three riverfuls of it, and as if to prove the prac- 
ticability of the dream, we know that in the ages of an- 
tiquity these resources were utilized for this purpose and 
with the most splendid success. Whether there is actually 
water enough to transform every square mile of the coun- 
try into a garden or whether the supply of available land 
will prove to be more than the water can care for, espe- 
cially now since the area has so greatly increased, can 
only be told after the project is tried. Certainly there 
is water enough for hundreds of square miles, enough 
indeed to make Mesopotamia one of the richest countries 
of its size in the world. Already one new irrigated area 
has been developed by the Hindiya Barrage built by a 
British concern between 1911 and 1913 as the first step 
in the reconstruction of the ancient irrigation system. 
The erection of this great barrage on the Euphrates River 
was due to the Young Turks, the dam being the first unit 
in a comprehensive irrigation project for the entire coun- 
try which had been drawn up for them by the noted 
engineer, Sir William Willcocks. It is only a beginning, 
but it has made the desert rejoice and blossom as the 
rose over many square miles of territory. 

With the exception of the rich petroleum deposits 
which are said to exist throughout the Mosul district and 


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THE ARABS OF MESOPOTAMIA _ 109 


which may play a prominent part in the economic devel- 
opment of the country, Mesopotamia may be regarded as 
a purely agricultural land. From this standpoint it is 
best considered in two sections. There is the river- 
irrigated date-growing district to the south, with Basra 
as its center, and there is the district to the north inhabited 
by nomads, semi-nomads ‘and river agriculturists, with 
its principal center in Baghdad and a second capital fur- 
ther north in Mosul. 

The date gardeners along the river in the Basra terri- 
tory resemble in many ways the cultivators that can be seen 
in any oasis town in Arabia. Their work is very similar. 
Irrigation systems must be constructed. Channels must 
be provided to carry the water to the roots of the date 
palms and to the squares of alfalfa and other crops. 
There is this difference, however, that the water flows of 
itself. Twice a day the tide of the ocean backs up the 
water of the great Arab River as far as Gurna, about a 
hundred miles from the sea. The extensive cultivation 
of dates stops at that point. The water can be shut out 
of a field if so desired, or the gates can be opened and 
as much allowed to enter as is needed. The supply is un- 
limited and can be had twice a day the year around. The 
soil is ideal. It is rich and hundreds of feet deep. In 
natural endowment Mesopotamia is a paradise for date 
gardeners. 

As a matter of fact, however, that country is far from 
a paradise for date gardeners. The favorable conditions 
ought to make their work easier and their remuneration 
greater, but the facts are otherwise. Their condition is 
worse than that of the cultivators in Hasa. It is the 
story of the Bahrein pearl banks over again. The in- 
creased wealth of the Bahrein pearl banks has not bene- 


110 THE ARAB AT HOME 


fited the Bahrein pearl diver; it has produced richer mer- 
chants in that district. In the same way the land- 
owners of Mesopotamia are past all comparison richer 
than the land-owners of the oases in Arabia but the ac- 
tual cultivators of the soil are far worse off. Improved 
conditions and an increased return on each man’s work 
have not benefited them at all. 

Their condition is pitiful. The gardens are owned by 
men who live far away in distance and farther away still 
in sympathy. The Sheikh of Kuwait owns large gar- 
dens in this district ; indeed his principal wealth is reputed 
to be invested there. The same is true of Sheikh Khazal 
of Mohammerah, the Persian governor for southern 
Arabistan. Many of the gardens are owned by rich men 
who live in Basra and Baghdad. Their affairs are ad- 
ministered by a local agent, whose sole interest lies in 
driving as hard a bargain as possible with the unfortunate 
cultivator. If an unfavorable year comes, there is no 
easily available judge or ruler to modify the contract as in 
Arabia. Asa result the gardeners are bitterly oppressed. 
Men are practically forced into bankruptcy in order to 
live up to oppressive contracts during a hard year. Com- 
petition is keen, and in these large communities where the 
gardens stretch for scores of miles and where it is not 
easy to turn to other occupations, where above all there 
is no public sentiment to appeal to and no ruler with Arab 
ideas of justice to frown upon the rich oppressor, it is 
possible to push the gardener down very close to the limit 
of bare subsistence. His clothes are in tatters. His 
food is poor. His house is wretched. Above all he is 
a discouraged and hard-pressed individual with a hope- 
less and despairing outlook on life. 


THE ARABS OF MESOPOTAMIA 111 


It is customary to abuse the Turkish Government as 
responsible for these conditions. That government has 
much to answer for, but it is doubtful whether even the 
efficient and benevolent rule of the British will improve 
the lot of the date gardener a great deal so long as the 
present system remains unchanged. The trouble is that 
the owner has no contact with his gardener except 
through his agent, and is coerced by no intelligent and 
effective public sentiment. Whether in Turkish or Brit- 
ish territory, he lives under a government built on the 
theory that contracts made in good faith must be executed 
at all costs and that knows no redress for the gardener 
except that he seek employment elsewhere, a thing that 
is very difficult to do. The adjustments possible in the 
oases of Arabia, where it is the function of the sheikh to 
modify oppressive contracts and where it is understood 
that an unfavorable reputation will speedily endanger 
the life of the land-owner, are out of the question in 
Mesopotamia. 

In addition to the date gardeners who cultivate the irri- 
gated land along the last hundred miles of the Arab 
River from Gurna to the Gulf, there are also a number of 
so-called Marsh Arabs along the rivers in Lower Mesopo- 
tamia, who raise rice, wheat and barley on land that ts 
overflowed in the spring when water is high. Rice is 
their favorite crop and the one that is most reliable. In 
that country the visitor is surprised at being served with 
loaves of bread of the usual flat pancake-shape but snowy 
white instead of the light brown color of the whole wheat 
flour which is universal over all Arabia. I asked my 
host with much surprise whether he imported his flour 
from Bombay and he laughed. He hardly knew where 


Li THE ARAB AT HOME 


Bombay was. ‘No,’ he said, “here we make our bread 
from rice flour. When the wheat crop is a failure, as in 
the past year, we have almost nothing else.”’ 

These overflow districts, which are marshes in the 
spring when the rivers overflow, dry down to hard soil 
later in the year. To keep the water high for a few 
weeks longer than it would naturally remain so, tempo- 
rary dams are constructed across some of the smaller 
streams, leaving an opening to allow boats to pass and 
water to run through. These dams persist in the face 
of a strong current in a way that is surprising. Mud, 
tree branches, mats, soil and the like seem to be the only 
building material, for there is no stone within hundreds of 
miles. The dams require a large amount of labor, and 
of course are cooperative enterprises. Possibly because 
of this necessity for cooperative effort, the Marsh Arab 
communities appear to have developed a good degree of 
community spirit. 

Like their race everywhere, these Marsh Arabs do not 
jive in isolated individual houses in the midst of their 
fields but collect in larger or smaller towns, some of them 
of considerable size. These towns are located usu- 
ally in the fork of a river, or where several streams 
come together. In Lower Mesopotamia there are many 
small channels that carry water either out of the main 
river or into it. The Marsh Arabs get about in pictur- 
esque, high-prowed, black river boats, black because they 
are covered with a thick coat of native bitumen which 
wells from the ground in one or two places in Mesopo- 
tamia and is an indication, so the engineers tell us, that 
petroleum is to be found in that country. These river 
boats, which are the one means of transportation, are 
built somewhat on the lines of a canoe and take consid- 





© Underwood & Underwood 
AN ARAB VILLAGE ON THE LOWER EUPHRATES 


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THE ARABS OF MESOPOTAMIA © 113 


erable skill to navigate. They are capable of great speed 
and are driven either by a sail or by oars as the occasion 
requires. To a stranger they seem very unstable, but 
the Marsh Arab, who has practically lived in them ever 
since he was a baby, finds them abundantly stable and 
perfectly safe. 

From a distance the houses occupied by these people 
are very picturesque. The reeds that grow in great 
abundance in the marshes of Lower Mesopotamia are 
gathered and when dry are tied in great bundles perhaps 
two feet in diameter. They are ten to fifteen feet tall 
or even more, and two bundles tied together at the tops 
are bent over to form an arch. Each of these arches 
forms one of the ribs of the house. They are placed 
every four to six feet, giving an air of solidity and dig- 
nity to the structure that is most unusual for this sort 
of simple architecture. Over these ribs a mat roof is con- 
structed which is surprisingly tight even in the heaviest 
rains. The houses vary in size, and the largest ones, 
which serve as guest halls for the sheikhs and the rich, 
may be seventy-five feet long and twenty feet broad. 

This agricultural district is peculiar in that while it 
has a settled community engaged in agricultural pursuits, 
there is no private ownership of land. The Marsh Arabs 
form a group almost untouched by Europeans. In the 
one district we visited all land is owned by the govern- 
ment, in this case a sheikh far removed from the district. 
The only tax that he levies is a moderate rental for the 
land. Apparently there is little difficulty in getting land; 
at least no one complained of any trouble of that sort, nor 
does there seem to be any difficulty in keeping the same 
plot of land indefinitely if the cultivator wishes to do so. 
The local governor is an efficient and more or less benevo- 


114 THE ARAB AT HOME 


lent man and seemed to be very well liked. The group 
as a whole enjoys a degree of prosperity and comfort 
most unusual for an Arab community. Everybody has 
enough to eat and enough to wear and a good house to 
live in. Crops seem to be quite reliable. If the wheat 
and barley harvest fails, the rice does not. Taxes are 
light and the local government good. 

The most conspicuous difference from the typical agri- 
cultural community in Arabia lies in the fact that here 
the old equality of the desert is preserved. There is no 
class of rich citizens who outshine their fellows. There 
are a few merchants of a small sort. Amara, the nearest 
city, 1s so close to the town we visited that the shops were 
very small, most of the trading being done in the larger 
city. We saw few artisans. The community seemed to 
be free from caste divisions and to enjoy a spirit of 
equality and brotherhood much like that of the Bedouins 
themselves. 

Another surprising thing is the freedom of all classes. 
The women have discarded the veil completely and as- 
sociate with the men freely, being seen on the street ap- 
parently under no restraint whatever. ‘This is a refresh- 
ing contrast to the other communities of Arabs; indeed 
the Marsh Arabs are far ahead of even the Bedouins in 
this respect. ‘These women buy and sell in the bazaar and 
appear to participate in all the activities of the town with 
no hesitation whatever. They visited the temporary dis- 
pensary that we set up and in their self-assertion were 
sometimes harder to manage than the men. It is interest- 
ing to note that these Arabs are all Shiahs. ‘“‘No,” said 
the guard that accompanied us from Ahwaz as we were 
coming in for a visit, “there are no infidels in all this dis- 
trict. Every one is a Shiah.”’ 


THE ARABS OF MESOPOTAMIA © 115 


As compared with the southern district the northern 
part of Mesopotamia grows only a small amount of dates. 
There are a few gardens around each city, which furnish 
fresh dates for local consumption during the season, but 
in this region water has to be raised from the river to the 
ground level by animals, by the method in use in Arabia. 
The gardens are small and confined to the river-side and 
are of no real significance in the economic support of the 
country. These northern regions are not devoid of rain- 
fall, and a meager return is secured by sowing wheat and 
barley on unirrigated land. Such cultivation, however, 
is uncertain, and in about one year out of every three the 
crop is a dead failure. 

The great mass of the people are nomadic or semi- 
nomadic. Everywhere there can be found pasturage for 
the nomad’s flocks and herds and wells for the watering 
of stock. Many of the Bedouin nomads engage in agri- 
culture occasionally in good seasons. Even among those 
who refuse to degrade themselves by becoming agricul- 
turists of any degree, the standards of life are consid- 
erably higher than among the Bedouins of Central Arabia. 
The supply of forage is more abundant, and their flocks 
of camels and sheep and goats are very large. These 
nomads have better clothes, very much more abundant 
food, and in every way live a more tolerable life than that 
of their brothers in the Central Arabian desert. Horses 
are common in Mesopotamia. They are a luxury but 
not such a tax on the resources of the owner as farther 
south, for there are always forage and water for them. 
Every Arab of position expects to own and ride one; 
otherwise he loses caste. Arab horses are beautiful ani- 
mals and are trained as household pets, much as a fine 
dog is trained with us. They are ridden without saddle 


116 THE ARAB AT HOME 


or bridle, except as these appurtenances are put on for 
show, and it is a beautiful sight to see an Arab on his 
pet mare galloping over the plain, the two appearing al- 
most as one animal. 

Among these nomads much the same ideas of equality 
and brotherhood prevail as are seen in Central Arabia. 
Tribal loyalty is very strong, and no one would think of 
stealing from a brother tribesman. From another tribe, 
however, there is a continual effort to steal all the hoofed 
property that can be abstracted. Conceptions of property 
are the same sort of semi-communistic ideas that seem to 
characterize the Bedouin everywhere. The game of com- 
pulsory exchange goes on merrily and is the spice of life 
to those hardy desert rangers. Whatever government 
eventually prevails may expect to have a hard time in 
taming them and teaching them some sort of civilized re- 
spect for the property of other people. 

In marked contrast to the more or less primitive ex- 
istence of these Mesopotamian nomads is the life of the 
large cities. Indeed Baghdad, Mosul and Basra, the 
principal cities of Mesopotamia, are more or less similar 
to cities in America in their organization and in the 
different classes of people they contain. The merchant 
class, which is large and prosperous, includes petty 
shopkeepers and great merchants with every grada- 
tion between these two extremes. The bazaars show 
a bewildering profusion of goods, in part locally manu- 
factured and in part imported. The great bazaar in 
Baghdad has entire streets devoted to the sale of the 
peculiar red shoe that is characteristic of that city. 
Whole streets again have little or nothing except earthen- 
ware of every sort and description. Great rooms are 
piled to the ceiling with these utensils. Ina general way 


ail, 
© Underwood & Underwood 
A SCENE IN BAGHDAD 








THE ARABS OF MESOPOTAMIA © 117 


each kind of goods has its special section of the bazaar. 
The brass- and copper-smiths’ quarter rings like a small 
boiler factory all day long. The artisans who are en- 
gaged in producing these commodities form a consider- 
able section of the Mesopotamian city population and are 
fairly prosperous and contented, much more so than the 
date gardeners of the outside districts. Supreme over. 
them all stands the Mesopotamian silver worker, whose 
antimony silver work can scarcely be duplicated anywhere 
in the world. 

The professional classes in these Mesopotamian cities 
are fairly well developed. There are teachers of every 
sort. Some of them have been trained abroad, but many 
are indigenous and a very great credit to the schools that 
have turned them out. There are a number of govern- 
ment schools, and in addition the different religious sects 
maintain schools of their own. In these days when west- 
ern education is in great demand, the schools of the Jews 
and the Christians are patronized by an increasing nuni- 
ber of Mohammedans. No local medical profession nas 
been developed as yet, but the wealth and the culture of 
Mosul, Baghdad and Basra have attracted a consider- 
able number of trained physicians from outside. We 
have therefore the beginnings of a medical profession, 
and although it is not yet indigenous, it will soon become 
so. Its ethics are not of a very high order; the cam- 
paign of the American College of Surgeons to abolish fee- 
splitting would not make much headway among Mesopo- 
tamian doctors, but time will develop ethical standards, 
and at the worst the profession is a long way in advance 
of the quacks that infest Arabia proper. There is also a 
well-established group of lawyers. One of the results of 
the governing of the country for hundreds of years by 


118 THE ARAB AT HOME 


the Turks, a foreign Power, was the development of an 
elaborate judicial procedure and a vast deal of red tape 
in all government business. It is not possible to see that 
the consequent appearance of a legal profession has 
brought any great blessings in its train. 

These various professional groups, together with the 
prosperous merchants, have gradually come to constitute a 
leisured middle class somewhat similar to that in America. 
This development is confined to the three large cities, 
Mosul, Baghdad and Basra, with Amara as a possible 
addition to the list. In these cities the rich merchants 
and lJand-owners have fortunes comparable with small 
fortunes in America. They have accounts in New York, 
in Manchester and in the Continental centers, and import 
goods direct from all of these places. Many of them 
read French or English. They take newspapers and 
keep in touch with the life of the world. This class of 
merchants and land-owners is the most civilized of any 
Arab community to be found anywhere. Many of them 
have traveled in India and Syria, and no small number 
have even visited Europe. Some of the doctors and law- 
yers have studied in Paris and Berlin and Vienna. There 
is a considerable amount of real culture among these 
men and women even now, and the next generation prom- 
ises to show far more. 

These three large cities are by far the most advanced 
section of Mesopotamia. ‘They appear to have in them a 
large degree of modern civilization. Nevertheless, even 
in these cities there is more tinsel than real gold. One 
questions in pessimistic moments whether there is any- 
thing except tinsel, in spite of all that has been done to 
give Mesopotamia a good government, general education 
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THE ARABS OF MESOPOTAMIA — 119 


cerned, the great cities are only a small fraction of Meso- 
potamia, for the last census gives the population of the en- 
tire country as 2,849,282, and that of the three cities of 
Basra, Baghdad and Mosul combined is probably not 
much over 350,000. 

Much of the material advance in these Mesopotamian 
cities is, of course, an indirect outcome of the Great War. 
Few countries anywhere were more affected by the 
changes that the war brought in its wake. It is impos- 
sible to hazard a guess as to the ultimate effect of the 
last ten years’ catastrophic happenings in Mesopotamia. 
Western civilization in its strong and unfortunately too 
often in its bad aspects has poured in on that country like 
a flood. Whether the various campaigns of the war and 
the whole influence of the English occupation, benevolent 
and efficient as it is, have resulted in genuine progress is 
difficult to say. Under the Turks, who had governed the 
three vilayets, or districts, of Basra, Baghdad and Mosul 
for hundreds of years as a part of the Turkish empire, 
the original Arab system of government had _ been 
changed very considerably. Since the war that change 
has been carried much farther by the British Government. 
In general terms, Mesopotamia was administered by 
Great Britian under a mandate at first, and later in 1921 
a constitutional monarchy was created with an Arab 
ruler, Feisul, son of King Husein of Hejaz, on the 
throne. Religious liberty was guaranteed by the Con- 
stitution adopted at that time. A modern parliamen- 
tary government was set up, with more or less the same 
organization, codified law and court procedure that we 
are used to at home. It is open to question whether this 
is in accordance with the genius of the Arab race or 
whether it is not imposing an alien system on the coun- 


120 THE ARAB AT HOME 


try rather than fostering the development of something 
indigenous and natural. Under such a system the en- 
forcement of law may become of necessity very mechani- 
cal, as when an Indian Sepoy nearly knocks down an in- 
offensive Arab pedestrian by a blow with his fist for no 
greater crime than walking on the wrong side of the 
road to avoid a mud puddle. In the courts, too, a crowd 
of lawyers and an abundance of red tape, with venal 
underlings, may serve to make the paths of justice tor- 
tuous and uncertain in spite of the best intentions on the 
part of the presiding judge. 

Nevertheless, even under such handicaps as those we 
have indicated, there is no questioning the very great 
material progress that is to be seen in Mesopotamia. 
Even before the war one of Baghdad’s streets was paved, 
and since the British have taken over the administration 
of the kingdom, all sorts of improvements have been in- 
troduced. The railroad system of the country now ex- 
tends 360 miles from Basra to Baghdad and from there 
on nearly to Mosul. There are several subsidiary lines, 
the total amounting to over 1000 miles. By far the 
greater part of this mileage was constructed by the Brit- 
ish for war purposes. Under British rule, also, the Hin- 
diya Barrage and other less important irrigation works 
have been kept in order and improved and extensive har- 
bor improvements at Basra undertaken. 

British sanitary and health officers have been ap- 
pointed for Mesopotamia and no praise is too high for 
their largely unappreciated but nevertheless unselfish and 
extremely efficient labors in that country. The hospital 
work that has been undertaken in Basra, Baghdad and 
Amara, the inspection of eating houses, and the maintain- 
ing of sanitary conditions have been excellently done. 


SadSNOH WOLSND Vasvad 





PPLE EE 








THE ARABS OF MESOPOTAMIA 121 


Unfortunately the fact that this work is practical benevo- 
lence of the finest sort and carried on in the finest spirit 
has not served to commend sanitary regulations to the 
Arab, who regards them as a nuisance, a hindrance to 
business and an infringement of his personal liberty. 

Mesopotamia has also grappled with the whole prob- 
lem of education most courageously. An educational 
system has been organized which includes normal schools 
for teachers and a large number of primary and secondary 
schools for both boys and girls. There are a smaller 
number of high schools, and a central university is 
planned. Fifteen years ago the dominant European in- 
fluence in this community was French, and no one could 
claim to be educated who could not talk that language 
fluently. There was a marked change a little later, and 
before the Great War German was the commanding in- 
fluence. Now, of course, the predominant western in- 
fluence is English, and it seems likely to remain so, for 
commerce will probably talk the English language for 
many years, whatever political upheavals the country may 
be destined to experience. It is true that the educational 
system has not as yet taken very deep root and that much 
of the work done is very superficial, but it is none the less 
exceedingly creditable and encouraging. Moreover, this 
western system of education will probably be more or less 
permanent, for it will always be the gateway to remuner- 
ative positions. 

In general, the people of Mesopotamia have been 
brought into contact with conditions of modern life and 
are anxious for further progress. New wants have been 
created, and a certain increase in the commerce of the 
country is the inevitable result. All manner of western 
dress goods and shoes are to be found in the bazaars, as 


{22 THE ARAB AT HOME 


well as many western food products, such as candies and 
fancy crackers. The country is lighted by kerosene oil, 
much of which comes from America. Numbers of auto- 
mobiles are to be seen, and in some places even electric 
lights. All these things represent the gratification of 
wants that did not exist previous to the entrance of west- 
ern influence. 

There has also been a development of the export trade 
of the country. However, the articles for export are not 
many nor of great amount. Dates are the principal pro- 
duct, together with a certain amount of wheat and rice 
and some hides and wool. In the long run, of course, no 
more can be brought into the country than is sent out of 
it, and the trade of Mesopotamia cannot increase to any 
great figure until her own natural resources are developed. 

Just how far these various modern improvements will 
go remains to be seen. If the British continue in power, 
there is no doubt that material development will be steady 
and sound. If they evacuate the country and leave it to 
an independent local government, progress will be much 
slower, to say the least. During the war wages went up 
to fabulous heights, and although prices of food and rent 
advanced even more, there is no doubt that the sum 
total of the war’s influence was to raise the standard of 
living in the cities and to stimulate enormously the desire 
for many western products and for western education. 
Just now there has been a very sharp reaction; times are 
hard, work is scarce, wages are poor. Everything west- 
ern is discounted, and the cry is for an independent na- 
tional development with the elimination of every foreign 
influence. The common people long for the golden days 
of the Turks, forgetting with a completeness quite as- 


THE ARABS OF MESOPOTAMIA © 123 


tonishing the nature of those golden days, now only ten 
years and less in the past. 

The fundamental difficulty is that the new régime, with 
all its virtues, is essentially an alien system imposed upon 
the country from without by virtue of superior military 
power. Thus it shares the unpopularity of alien systems 
the world over. The opposition to the present ruler and 
his British advisers is not simply the frothing of irrespon- 
sible and ambitious nationalist agitators. It is all that, 
but there is something far more significant underneath. 
I was once entertained for an afternoon by a rabid 
nationalist of Mesopotamia who attempted to show that 
the system of education introduced by the British was in- 
ferior in curriculum and in number of students to the 
pre-war system of the Turks, which proposition was about 
as reasonable as that two and two make twenty. But it 
would have been a great mistake to conclude that the man 
was primarily concerned to vindicate the Turks. He was 
not even primarily concerned over the educational system 
of Mesopotamia. Nor was he simply a fool. The thing 
that troubled him was the fact that his country was ruled 
by aliens. The tremendous following that such men 
have is not due to any outstanding ability they possess 
and still less to any profound insight into the various 
problems of the day, but rather to the fact that the average 
Arab, the man in the street in Mesopotamia, also resents 
that alien domination very intensely. It is hard for the 
unimaginative Westerner to realize that what the Arab 
wants is not efficient government or even good govern- 
ment. What he wants is self-government. 

On the whole, in spite of many encouraging signs of 
progress, a more intimate acquaintance with affairs in 


124 THE ARAB AT HOME 


Mesopotamia distinctly dampens enthusiasm. It appears 
gravely doubtful whether we are on the road of progress 
at all—whether, in fact, we are not on a road with a very 
different ending. The sanitary and educational systems 
are both of them expensive, and it is doubtful if either 
can be continued now that Great Britain is no longer 
willing to spend large sums of money on the country. 
The railroads have hardly been brought to the point of 
self-support, and the harbor facilities of Basra, which 
were constructed to meet war needs, are ludicrously ex- 
cessive. ‘The local administrators now are at their wits’ 
end to find funds sufficient to maintain them. All work 
on the irrigation system is at a standstill for the same 
reason. The whole government structure is a showy 
shell, vastly more expensive than can be_ properly 
shouldered by such a country. Its alien character makes 
this expense inevitable. The rulers who come from 
Great Britain demand salaries which are enormous judged 
by local standards, and much the same exaggerated scale 
of remuneration prevails throughout their staff of in- 
digenous assistants. Creating a government that shall 
be modern enough to foster progress and at the same 
time cheap enough to sit lightly upon the community and 
be at least tolerable if not popular, constitutes a problem 
which is by no means solved. 


CHAR E Re VLT 


TH RVARABMS Fiber, 


To casual visitor in Arabia sees a government 
which looks to him like unadulterated abso- 
lutism. The sheikh of an Arab tribe exercises 
unlimited power. ‘“‘Whom he would he slew and whom 
he would he kept alive’ would serve as a description of 
him as of Nebuchadnezzar. He is invested with abso- 
lute authority. No legislature embarrasses him. No 
judiciary troubles him. He exercises the functions of 
all departments of government. He has the power of life 
and death over every man, woman and child in the tribe 
and is answerable to no one. ‘This means, of course, that 
after the fashion of oriental monarchs he will occasion- 
ally reward trifling services with extraordinary favors 
and trifling misdeeds with grotesque and horrible pun- 
ishments. To insist on any different course is, im the 
Arab’s mind, to limit the sheikh’s absolute and untram- 
meled power. He has subordinates and advisers, but he 
is entirely unfettered by them. His responsibility is un- 
divided and his authority absolute. 

The office is hereditary and in the natural course of 
events passes to the eldest son on the sheikh’s death. It 
frequently happens, however, that the father abdicates 
when still a good distance from the grave and assists in 
the transfer of the power to his successor. There are 


cases, too, where the eldest son is obviously a man of no 
125 


126 THE ARAB AT HOME 


force, and on that account one of the other children as- 
sumes the office of sheikh when the time for a change 
comes. If there is no son of mature age ready, the reins 
of power may be taken by the sheikh’s brother, but such 
a change tends to be temporary, and this brother will 
probably be succeeded by his nephew, the eldest son of 
the eldest of the previous generation. This whole ar- 
rangement is by no means invariable. The ablest ruler 
is the man wanted and the one who is eventually secured. 
No one cares very much to what family he belongs. 

The organization of the Arabs into tribes and the in- 
stitution of tribal government must be very ancient in- 
deed. So far as I know, there is not the slightest trace 
anywhere of Arabs without such a tribal organization. 
There is nothing to prevent individual Arabs from elect- 
ing to live in isolation but no such individuals are to be 
“found. An Arab may occasionally leave one tribe and 
join another, but whether he lives in desert, inland oasis 
or coast community, the individual Arab owes his al- 
legiance to the sheikh, or chief, of the group. The office 
of sheikh is to be found everywhere throughout Arabia. 
Its importance varies considerably, from the leadership 
of small groups of poverty-stricken nomads or villagers 
to the great sheikhdoms along the East Coast. When an 
Arab ruler extends his authority by conquest over wide 
areas, as in the case of Ibn Saoud, who as emir of 
the Wahabi state of the Nejd has brought most of north- 
ern and northeastern Arabia under his sway, the central 
government that he sets up is simply an extension of the 
principle of local sheikh government and the individual 
tribes which submit to his authority often continue to be 
governed locally by their own sheikhs. Sheikh govern- 
ment therefore coexists, and since time immemorial has 








Hy OF -BALREIN 


K 


THE SHEI 





THE CASTLE OF THE SHEIKH OF DAREEN 





THE ARAB SHEIKH Lay 


coexisted, by the side of such larger or more compact 
political units as have been built up, whether under the an- 
cient caliphs, the Wahabis or the Turks, or under the 
egis of British protection. Moreover, from all indica- 
tions it seems likely that this type of government will 
continue to exist in some form or other, for the Arab has 
succeeded in developing a political system which, however 
inadequate it may seem to Westerners in some particu- 
lars, is surprisingly well adapted to his needs. 

Politically, present-day Arabia comprises a number of 
loosely defined units coinciding roughly with geographical 
divisions. The boundaries of these Arab states and 
sheikhdoms, uncertain enough at any given moment, are 
in a state of constant flux. The war, especially, which 
brought in its train the final expulsion of the Turk, the 
extension of British influence and the fermenting schemes 
of Arab nationalism, resulted in marked changes in tribal 
alliances and boundaries. These show little signs of set- 
tling into static condition. 

Any detailed consideration of western and southern 
Arabia, with its extensive areas lying along the coast of 
the Red Sea and the southern part of the Arabian Sea, 
is outside the province of this book, which concerns itself 
chiefly with Arab life in central and eastern Arabia and 
the Tigris Euphrates valley. Briefly, western and south- 
ern Arabia constitutes a strip of territory of about a hun- 
dred miles in width running along the coast and around 
the tip of the peninsula and comprising north to south: 
Hejaz, with its thriving seaport of Jidda and its much- 
prized custody of the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, a 
kingdom which is ruled over at present by Husein, the 
sherif of Mecca, who under the stimulus of a substan- 
tial British subsidy and the self-assumed title “King of 


128 THE ARAB AT HOME 


the Arabs” cherishes many ambitious schemes and has 
even laid claim to the caliphate itself since its relinquish- 
ment by the Turks; farther south, the district of Asir, 
hardly a political entity, allegiance being divided between 
the local Jdrisi and the rulers of the adjacent states of 
Hejaz, Nejd and Yemen; and next in order, occupying 
the end of the peninsula, the mountainous imamate of 
Yemen, the British protectorate of Aden and the district 
of Hadhramut. Each of these sections has, of course, 
its peculiar local features. But conditions of life in a 
country so influenced as is Arabia by climate and topog- 
raphy are very similar throughout, and whether it be 
east or west coast, the political system under which the 
Arab lives is fundamentally the same. Everywhere the 
powers of local government are in the hands of the 
sheikh; the more ambitious rulers of consolidated areas 
are simply glorified sheikhs, and an understanding of 
the sheikh system of government furnishes the key to 
much that is perplexing in Arab life. 

In central and eastern Arabia the outstanding political 
phenomenon of the past twenty-five years has been the rise 
to power of Ibn Saoud, emir of the Wahabi state of in- 
land Arabia. There are still parts of this territory that 
have not come under his dominion, but his is a name to 
conjure with throughout the entire district. A brief sur- 
vey of the history of this Wahabi state should give us 
much insight into those qualities of leadership and func- 
tions of government which, however much they may dif- 
fer from western standards, are fundamental to the Arab 
system. 

To the western mind the normal condition of the vast 
peninsula of Arabia, peopled by intense individualists 
loosely bound together into warring tribes each loyal to 


THE ARAB SHEIKH 129 


its own sheikh, represents a sort of chaos. Nothing 
unites men of this stamp except some overpowering 
personality who gains their loyal affection because he 
is wise and powerful enough to deserve it. From time to 
time great leaders of this type do arise in Arabia, and to 
such a leader the Arab will attach himself with a loyalty 
that knows no limits. Mohammed must have been such 
a man, and from his day until our own there has not ap- 
peared his equal. Since the days of the first four caliphs 
who succeeded Mohammed at Medina up until recent 
years no strongly centralized government had existed in 
the Arabian peninsula with the single exception of the 
Wahabi empire built up by the Saoud dynasty during the 
last years of the eighteenth and early years of the nine- 
teenth centuries. As was characteristic of such devel- 
opments in the Mohammedan world, this great empire 
was the outcome of the most intense sort of religious re- 
vival, and its detailed consideration is therefore left for 
a later chapter which treats of the development of re- 
ligious sects. It is enough to say here that after its power 
had spread from inland Arabia throughout the greater 
part of the peninsula and had assumed such proportions 
as to threaten the Turkish empire, it was crushed by for- 
eign invaders and its capital at Deraiya utterly destroyed. 
But the triumph of the Turk was short. Ibrahim Pasha, 
the conqueror of the Arabs, soon withdrew, and by 1824 
the capital was rebuilt at Riyadh, not far from its old site, 
and the Wahabi state reéstablished. Its power, however, 
remained merely nominal, and for the next seventy-five 
years ‘Arabian history is a barren record of tribal fights, 
assassinations and stagnation. 

About the middle of the century in Hail, an oasis to the 
north of Riyadh, a man called Ibn Rashid appeared. At 


130 THE ARAB AT HOME 


first he was an officer under the reestablished Wahabi 
government. Later he became independent, and _ all 
northern Arabia followed him. For many years his was 
the brightest star in the Arabian firmament. From this 
time on there was great rivalry between Hail, the capital 
of Jebel Shammar in the north, ruled by the Rashid fam- 
ily, and Riyadh, the capital of Nejd in the south, ruled by 
the Saoud family. The northern star was in the ascend- 
ent for fifty years, up to 1901 when Ibn Saoud, the pres- 
ent ruler of Nejd, appeared on the scene. It is not neces- 
sary to enter into the intricacies of the situation created 
by this intense rivalry. For a time the Saoud dynasty 
was in eclipse and the father of the present Emir, with 
his growing sons, lived in exile in the domain of Sheikh 
Mubarak of Kuwait rather than submit to the authority 
of the Rashid house. 

Finally twenty-two years ago, in Igo1, there ap- 
peared in Riyadh, the capital of the Wahabis, a far 
greater man than Ibn Rashid. Indeed it may be ques- 
tioned whether since the days of the Prophet himself 
there has appeared such a commander of the hearts of 
the Arabs as this man, Abdul Aziz bin Feisul bin 
Saoud, or more briefly Ibn Saoud. He readily gained 
control of the Wahabi emirate of Nejd, of which he was 
the rightful hereditary ruler, and already he has extended 
his dominion over the whole of inland Arabia. In twenty 
years he has driven the Turks out of Hasa and Katif on 
the Persian Gulf and deposed the Rashid family in 
Hail. He has conquered parts of the Pirate Coast and 
Asir. Still young after all these exploits, no doubt he 
hopes eventually to reign over an empire as great as that 
of his forefathers. If present events are an indication, 
he seems destined to unite practically the whole of 


THE ARAB SHEIKH dew 


Arabia. He is followed with a loyalty that is beyond 
description, and stories of his justice and power form a 
new chapter in present-day ‘Arabian Nights.” 

This exceptional chief commands the admiration and 
the loyalty of his subjects great and small to a surprising 
degree. He has a number of brothers, all of whom ap- 
pear to have no other ambition than to stand back of him 
and assist him in any way that they can. The rank and 
file of his armies idolize him. They are never tired of 
singing his praises. They love to tell of the long, terrible 
marches that they have made under his leadership in times 
past and are anxious to make again, when men dropped 
from their camels utterly worn out with fatigue and lack 
of sleep. They tell of his marvelous military exploits, 
an especial favorite being the battle in the neighborhood 
of Hasa, when he came from Riyadh, a five-day journey 
for fast caravans, in a day and a half to turn defeat into 
victory by his personal presence. His usual method 
when attacking an enemy, it is said, was to arrest all in 
the capital who came from that district, start with his 
army at such a pace that a messenger could hardly over- 
take them, and striking his enemy by surprise rout him 
utterly. If these stories sometimes need a grain of salt, 
it is to be remembered that a man who can lead three 
hundred desert Arabs against a walled city and drive 
out two regiments of Turkish soldiers, a man who can 
unite the warring tribes of Arabia as they have hardly 
been united since the days of Mohammed himself and 
who can administer his country so well that property has 
trebled in value, is a real leader. He is more than that. 
He is one of the world’s born kings. 

The logical climax of twenty years’ success came last 
year in a long and exhausting campaign to conquer Hail. 


132 THE ARAB AT HOME 


The whole of inland Arabia was dried up by two years’ 
drought. Horses and camels died by hundreds. ‘The 
men in Hail took advantage of the official fast month 
of Ramadhan to get two caravans of supplies into the 
city. But in spite of the drought, in spite of the desper- 
ate lack of transport, in spite of the financial drain that 
nearly bankrupted the kingdom, the Arabs under Ibn 
Saoud held on and the city eventually fell. — 

Ibn Saoud won more prestige by his treatment of the 
captured city than by his military power in taking it. 
Rice was brought in and distributed free to the starving 
people. No looting was allowed. The Shiahs were 
summoned as a body to the royal presence and came ter- 
rified, fearing extermination as a heterodox sect. They 
were most courteously treated, given Ibn Saoud’s per- - 
sonal assurance of protection, and each furnished with 
an official document sealed with the Great Chief’s per- 
sonal seal. They were guaranteed that as long as they 
remained law-abiding citizens, the whole power of the 
government would protect their lives and their property. 
The entire population was convinced that the change of 
government was for the best, and Ibn Saoud attached 
hearts to himself in a way almost incredible, so that 
even in far-off Mesopotamia men began to wonder 
whether this man Ibn Saoud might not make a good king 
for that distracted country. 

However, Ibn Saoud, who has captured the imagina- 
tion of the Arabs as has no one for decades and centuries, 
has plenty of secret enemies. The Arab is too consistent 
an individualist to endure even his rule without chafing. 
A few years ago two desert Arabs came into the Bahrein 
Hospital professing to be Ibn Saoud’s men. Further- 


THE ARAB SHEIKH 133 


more they told no falsehoods, for they were Ibn Saoud’s 
men, by necessity if not by choice. Bahrein is very hos- 
tile to Ibn Saoud and his ambitions, and as the Arab puts 
it, “In the Bahrein bazaar, Ibn Saoud is killed every 
month.’ One of the frequent rumors of his death was 
heard while these men were in the hospital, and to every 
one’s great surprise they were much elated over the news. 
When questioned they replied after looking around in 
every direction to be sure no one was listening, “‘Praise 
the Lord, now if God wills, he is dead! Why since that 
man has ruled, no one has raided an enemy and no one 
has stolen so much as a chicken. Nothing to do but stay 
at home like women.” It was obvious that to them life 
without its usual amusements was scarcely worth living. 
Not many are equally frank, but doubtless there are many 
whose secret feelings are very similar. 

As a leader Ibn Saoud possesses an extraordinary abil- 
ity to inspire loyalty in the men he chooses for his lieuten- 
ants. Thus even in districts far removed from the in- 
land capital he is able to put into operation the same sort 
of government that has been so successful in Riyadh. 
Ibn Sualim is the governor of Katif, a district north of 
Hasa on the Persian Gulf. He can be harsh at times and 
offenders fear him exceedingly. When he returned to 
his beloved city of Riyadh for a visit after an absence of 
several years, he begged the Great Chief to let him stay 
at home and not send him back to Katif. He actually 
broke down and wept in his ruler’s presence as he thought 
of leaving again his much loved city and the open 
desert that is a part of every inland Arab’s life. But 
when his chief told him that there was no one else to 
send, he returned without a murmur, and he is there to- 


134 THE ARAB AT HOME 


day, serving the Great Chief with a loyalty that knows no 
bounds and ruling with a benevolence that has made him 
the father to all his people. 

But Ibn Saoud’s chief lieutenant and the most power- 
ful of all the rulers of eastern Arabia is Ibn Jelouee, gov- 
ernor of Hasa, a man in his way as remarkable as the 
great chieftain himself. His devotion to Ibn Saoud and 
his pitiless justice are proverbial over all that country. 
Three years ago I visited Hofuf, the capital of Hasa, 
when Ibn Saoud was in the city. The first thing to be 
done in entering a strange Arab city is to go and present 
'y official compliments to the ruling sheikh. Naturally un- 
der the circumstances we called first on Ibn Saoud. He 
was in a small room with Ibn Jelouee as his only com- 
pancon. Ibn Saoud was seated on an ordinary settee 
such as grace Arab reception rooms everywhere. He in- 
vited me to come and sit next to him, quite after the usual 
custom for an honored guest. But Ibn Jelouee was not 
on that settee. He sat on the floor across the room. 
Nothing would induce him to sit in the place of honor 
next to his chief, although he quite expected me to do so; 
and that cold pitiless face was fairly transfigured by the 
love and loyalty that shone out of it. 

In the days of Turkish rule before the occupation of 
Hasa by Ibn Saoud and his Wahabi forces from inland 
Arabia, there was an unbroken series of inefficient and 
corrupt governors who ruled over this oasis district, 
which has a population of about 100,000. When Ibn 
Jelouee was appointed ten years ago, the local conditions 
bordered on anarchy. Bedouins plundered the province 
at will and even entered the capital city of Hofuf itself. 
The community was divided into cliques and divisions; 
robbery and murder were frequent. 


THE ARAB SHEIKH 135 


One of Ibn Jelouee’s early acts was to dismiss the rich 
men and merchants who attended his reception hall in 
great numbers. ‘We want no one here,’ he explained, 
“except on business. I am anxious to form no friendships 
which may interfere with my rendering impartial judg- 
ment between rich and poor.” This man has no salary, 
simply the upkeep of his establishment. His throne is a 
settee of crude local manufacture and is innocent of up- 
holstery. A small plain cushion is its only comfort. His 
clothes are not immaculate, nor are they elaborate. Why 
a man should trouble about such things is a mystery to 
the Governor. His sense of duty is magnificent. He 
left his family to come to Hasa and occupy his present 
position. Since his appointment in 1914 he has hardly 
spent a day outside the city limits except once on an er- 
rand to Oqair and once when his own chief came on an 
official visit and Ibn Jelouee met him and accompanied 
him through the city gates as a token of affectionate loy- 
alty. He would be surprised to have his procedure de- 
scribed as unusual devotion to duty. It would not occur 
to him to act in any other way. When I asked him, he 
would not admit that he was lonesome for his home city 
of Riyadh, or even that he missed his children. Never- 
theless, when I told him what a fine little boy his son was 
and how the Great Chief, Ibn Saoud, enjoyed having the 
manly youngster sit up next to him on the royal settee, 
the face of the terrible governor lit up with an expression 
that told a far truer story than did his stoical tongue. 

This man rules with a rod of iron. In the early days 
of his governorship he hardly ever arose from his settee 
in the judgment hall without some culprit’s being led off 
for flogging or decapitation. He was utterly pitiless, and 
the hardened Bedouins of the desert spoke to me of his 


136 THE ARAB AT HOME 


deeds in hushed voices. The tribes which had made the 
life of Hasa miserable were invited to submit and when 
they refused, they were driven out of their patrimony to 
wander in the desert and find a home elsewhere. His ab- 
solute and arbitrary power was well illustrated when a 
caravan of Bedouins from the desert, on leaving the Hasa 
oasis, insulted and beat a villager whom they met 
who declined to accede to their wishes in some trifle. 
This incident happened in the early days before it had 
been demonstrated which was the stronger, the lawless 
instinct of the desert which had proved too much for 
the Turks or the will of the new governor who was de- 
termined to rule the country and protect every well- 
behaved citizen. The caravan was pursued and brought 
back to the capital city. Goods and camels were confis- 
cated and the men shut up in a large empty courtyard. 
The Governor sent out to the gardens for a supply of 
green date sticks, and the men of that unfortunate cara- 
van were taken one at a time, stripped and tied to stakes 
and whipped until, bleeding and pulpy, they lapsed into 
unconsciousness. The women of the caravan were al- 
lowed to witness the proceedings through cracks in the 
doors and filled the air with their shrieks and cries for 
mercy. They tore their hair and clothes and threw dust 
into the air in a frenzy of terror and rage as they saw 
their husbands and brothers and sons beaten almost to 
death. When adequate punishment had been adminis- 
tered, each unconscious man was passed out to the care of 
his family. After this episode a new and wholesome 
respect for constituted authority settled down on the 
nomad community. 

No ruler in all Arabia next to the Great Chief himself 
has so gained the good will of the Arabs as has this stern 


THE ARAB SHEIKH 137 


and impartial governor of Hasa. They are very fond 
of telling how he once entertained a complaint from an 
ignorant villager whose cow a party of boys out on a 
hunting expedition had shot and killed. The villager did 
not know the name of the offender but had noted him at 
the time. A careful description of the party made it pos- 
sible to gather the entire number before the Governor. 
The villager then, on being asked whether he could iden- 
tify the guilty boy, pointed him out with no trouble and 
learned to his horror that the culprit was Ibn Jelouee’s 
own son. He started to apologize profusely but was not 
allowed to continue. | 

“Did you do this?” the boy was sternly asked. 

wiveseicdidiat:? 

The boy had a very fine mare, a recent gift from his 
father, and this was ordered brought. ‘‘Would you,” 
asked Ibn Jelouee with the utmost courtesy, “be willing 
to regard this mare as an adequate compensation for 
the loss of your cow?” 

The mare was a magnificent animal, much more valu- 
able than the cow that had been killed. “Certainly,” re- 
plied the villager. “She is worth many times the value 
of that cow, but I hope you will excuse me from taking 
her. If I had had the least idea who the offender was, 
I should never have entered a complaint under any cir- 
cumstances.”’ 

“No doubt,” replied Ibn Jelouee with a smile, “that is 
true, but nevertheless you will not be excused from taking 
the mare. The boy must in addition apologize to you 
most unqualifiedly, and if you will allow that to settle the 
matter, I shall be sincerely indebted to you.” So the boy 
apologized, and the villager led off the mare. The small 
boy’s heart was almost broken at the loss of his beau- 


138 THE ARAB AT HOME 


tiful mare, but it was not until sometime later that Ibn 
Jelouee bought the mare back for him, and then at a 
price of a thousand riyals, a sum sufficient to make the 
villager independently wealthy for the rest of his life. 
Ibn Jelouee’s name is one to conjure with over the 
'whole of eastern Arabia. His ferocity in disposing of 
offenders and rebels is a proverb. Yet such power is en- 
tirely consistent with an astonishing independence of 
outlook and action on the part of his subjects. One night 
in his public reception room I listened to a free-for-all 
argument between a Bedouin of the desert and this ter- 
rible governor as to some occurrence a few years in the 
past. Ibn Jelouee received a letter while we were all sit- 
ting there, with news in it of an engagement between Ibn 
Saoud and his enemies. There had been a victory for the 
Great Chief, and in announcing the good news the Gov- 
ernor added a few comments recalling the fact that in that 
same neighborhood a certain tribe had been unfaithful to 
Ibn Saoud a few years before. One of the unkempt Bed- 
ouins present belonged to the tribe in question, and he 
promptly took up the cudgels in its defense. A West- 
erner never ceases to marvel at what he sees in the East. 
Here without doubt was the most feared man in all 
Arabia, in whose hands rested the power of life and 
death over thousands of men, a man who whipped crimi- 
nals to death whenever he thought the public good de- 
manded it, a man whose pitiless severity toward rebel- 
lious Bedouins made those hardened fanatics talk of him 
in lowered, almost terrified voices; and this man was en- 
gaging in a spirited argument before all and sundry with 
an ordinary Bedouin of the desert over a trivial point in 
recent Arabian history. No one else appeared to regard 


THE ARAB SHEIKH 139 


the circumstance as surprising, least of all Ibn Jelouee 
himself. The argument lasted perhaps five minutes and 
in the end the Governor had the best of it. He ended 
with a semi-apologetic explanation to his Bedouin guest 
that he simply wanted the truth understood, otherwise he 
would not have argued him down. In this attitude, as 
well as in his exercise of almost unlimited authority, Ibn 
Jelouee is the embodiment of an ideal Arab ruler devoted 
to the interests of his chief and to those of the com- 
munity he rules. 

This Wahabi state whose workings we have discussed 
above is simply the time-tested Arab system of tribal gov- 
ernment writ large. The qualities that have enabled [bn 
Saoud to win the loyal support of the greater part of cen- 
tral and eastern Arabia are the same qualities that are ad- 
mired in the local sheikhs throughout the peninsula and 
the governmental functions that Ibn Jelouee exercises 
with such despatch from his judgment seat in Hofuf are 
the same functions that devolve upon the local sheikh. 

The Arab system of government thus depends abso- , 
lutely on the sheikh. Since it is a one-man administra- 
tion, if he fails everything fails. Not every man has in 
him the material for a responsibility of this sort and, as 
might be expected, it is the strong men who gravitate into 
such positions. The first requisite is unusual physical 
courage. No coward can last long in such a post. 
Every Arab sheikh stands in frequent danger of assas- 
sination, and the nerve which lets men sleep peacefully 
when danger fills the whole atmosphere is absolutely es- 
sential. He must have, as well, a large amount of moral 
courage and be ready to lead in deciding the various ques- 
tions that come up. He may ask advice and usually he 


140 THE ARAB AT HOME 


does, but the responsibility of leading into untried paths 
and attempting dangerous and even unpopular things 
rests upon him. 

To his physical and moral bravery it is essential that a 
certain amount of personal magnetism be added. Ibn 
Jelouee of Hasa is a brave man, both physically and 
morally. He can face danger and adverse public opinion 
with indifference. Some day he will face death with 
equal composure. But Ibn Jelouee could never be a 
great sheikh in Arabia. He lacks every element of per- 
sonal magnetism. On principle he excludes congenial 
companionship from his reception room and there is no 
one, outside of his family at least, to whom any other 
than his cold business aspect is presented. He is feared 
by everybody and the poorer sections of the community 
revere him as a father, but no one loves him. He lives in 
an atmosphere of cold isolation, the loneliest man, I some- 
times think, in all Arabia, sustained by his sense of duty 
and devotion to his chief, but without a warm friend in 
the world. 

A man such as this makes an excellent lieutenant, but 
he cannot be a great sheikh. A sheikh must lead, must 
command an intense devotion on the part of his followers. 
A man can hardly be a great sheikh unless his followers 
welcome the chance of dying for him. Not every chief 
in Arabia is cast in this mold, but the great ones are. 
The difference between Mubarak of Kuwait and Ibn 
Saoud of Riyadh is just this difference. Mubarak, the 
former sheikh of Kuwait, was a shrewd man and a very 
able ruler. The justice and strength of his government 
in Kuwait were renowned all up and down the Gulf, but 
no one loved him. His dominion never extended beyond 
the territory that was naturally tributary to Kuwait. He 


LIVMOM AO HMISHS FHL 














THE ARAB SHEIKH 141 


was an ally of the British and their friendship was invalu- 
able to him. It is doubtful if, with his lack of personal 
magnetism, he could have maintained himself as the head 
of a tribe of desert nomads. 

To be a good Arab ruler it is also necessary to have an 
unquestioning faith in the completeness and perfection of 
the system followed. In this particular [bn Jelouee is a 
more complete embodiment of the Arab ideal than Ibn 
Saoud himself. It takes a certain amount of stupidity to 
be an ideal administrator. The man who is constantly 
studying other systems and seeing the flaws in his own 
will not make a success of governing an Arab tribe. The 
Persian has a far brighter and more alert mind than the 
Arab. In any department of thought that could be 
named he outclasses the Arab hopelessly. Wherever 
the two live together, however, it is the Arab who rules, 
even though he constitutes only a small percentage of the 
population. Thereisareason for this fact. The Persian’s 
very capacity for mental gymnastics disqualifies him for 
the task. The Arab, on the other hand, is possessed of a 
divine and perfect governmental system. It is written 
in the Koran. Western infidels who differ from it are 
fools and blind, and he is not interested in their follies. 
As a result he administers the country on the lines laid 
down in his system with great efficiency. Justice is dealt 
out with a hand that is as hard as iron but at the same 
time as flexible as rubber. Public order is preserved, 
the poor are protected from the rapacity of the rich, rela- 
tions are maintained with neighboring tribes. Peace 
reigns, freedom is assured for every well-behaved citizen, 
and offenders are terrified into submission by such red- 
handed justice as no western conscience would tolerate. 
The result is a peace and contentment to which we in the 


142 THE ARAB AT HOME 


West hardly attain. Your Persian, on the other hand, 
will discuss entertainingly the relative merits of the 
English and American parliamentary systems while an- 
archy prevails throughout his district. 

The superficial observer who sees all this exercise of 
authority will conclude that there is little or nothing in 
the Arab system of government except an unlimited 
monarchy and that all democratic sentiments have been 
ruthlessly sacrificed. On the surface there is no more 
complete despotism in the world. The sheikh’s power is 
unlimited, and he uses it unhesitatingly as the whim may 
strike him) Helis ‘anczar, 

No mistake could be more complete than this hasty 
conclusion. To understand how far from the truth this 
conception is, and how exceedingly effective the checks 
and balances of Arab government are, it is necessary to 
remember some of the characteristics of Arab life. In 
the first place, in Arabia as elsewhere in the East, hu- 
man life is exceedingly cheap. The fact that he has killed 
one or twenty fellow human beings will not, I venture to 
say, keep the average Arab awake for a quarter of an 
hour, or indeed for a quarter of a minute. ‘The second 
characteristic of the life and mind of the Arab that is 
significant in this connection is his extreme independence. 
No foreign Power has ever dominated the Arab.  Ibra- 
him Pasha, a hundred years ago, invaded Arabia and 
maintained a shadow of power in Riyadh, but his term 
of power was short and it was the land and not the 
people that submitted to him. Only occasionally in the 
history of the peninsula has the Arab been willing to 
give up enough of his tribal independence to make pos- 
sible any national unity. The normal condition is one of 
chaotic, never-ending intertribal war. 


THE ARAB SHEIKH 143 


It is true that the sheikh wields the power of life and 
death over this community of freedom and individualism. 
It also wields the power of life and death over him. The 
tribesmen expect a strong-handed and efficient rule. They 
expect public order to be maintained. They expect the 
poor to be protected by the sheikh from the rapacity of 
therich. They expect relations with neighbors to be main- 
tained. If these things are not done, if public order is not 
maintained and there are murders and robberies in the 
tribe, if the poor are exploited because the sheikh is too 
weak to prevent it, if tribal boundaries are transgressed 
by neighboring tribes, there arises within the tribe a fac- 
tion of discontented men led by some one whom they de- 
sire as ruler in the place of the sheikh who is making such 
a failure of things. If disorder continues and oppression 
by the rich and powerful increases, this faction grows, 
and once a fair majority of the tribe have become pas- 
sively sympathetic, the ruling sheikh is assassinated and 
the leader of the faction takes his place. The tribe ac- 
cepts the new ruler precisely as it did his predecessor. It 
demands of him just what it demanded of the other 
sheikh. If he is able to fill his new post well, he will be 
followed with all the enthusiasm and devotion that he 
can ask. If he fails, his tenure of office will be short and 
he will be assassinated as his predecessor was. The Arab 
system is not a despotism at all. It is a one-man ad- 
ministration of the community, with the most effective 
form of recall that has ever been devised, and the Arab 
sheikh, with all his unrestrained power, is probably the 
most sensitive and responsive to the popular will of any 
ruler in the world. 

The Arab has thus not only an excellent governmental 
system, with extraordinarily efficient checks and balances, 


144 THE ARAB AT HOME 


but a very precise conception of the functions of that gov- 
ernment. The first function of the government, or as 
the Arab would say, of the sheikh, is the preservation of 
public order. The life and person of every tribesman 
must be protected in every legitimate activity, that is to 
say in all activities which do not infringe on the rights 
and interests of other citizens. Not long ago some of 
the religious fanatics of the interior beat a Jewish mer- 
chant who was living in the city of Hofuf. These men 
had their camels confiscated and were drastically pun- 
ished. There is no individual in the world so obnoxious 
to the Moslem as a Jew, but as a peaceable citizen he was 
entitled to the protection of the ruler, and he received it. 
The greater part of the population in Hasa are Shiahs. 
Shiahs as a class are only less objectionable than Jews to 
orthodox Mohammedans, but they must be protected 
nevertheless. No desert fanatic is allowed to molest 
them. To the weak in general, the sheikh is expected to 
give his especial attention, to see that their rights are 
scrupulously preserved. 

Not only life and person but also property must be pro- 
tected. Outside their own community the sheikh and the 
tribe have the ethics of pirates. Anything they can take 
is theirs. Within the tribe, however, or within the 
city, it is one of the ruler’s major duties to see that every 
property holder is secured in the possession and enjoy- 
ment of his property against all comers whatsoever. The 
very rich men, if such exist in a tribe, are perhaps not 
so carefully protected as those who have less. There are 
two reasons for this fact. In the first place they are 
better able to take care of themselves. In the second 
place, although anxious to protect all from outside 
marauders, the sheikh is sometimes severely tempted by 


THE ARAB SHEIKH 145 


such a mass of easily seizable wealth, especially when his 
own exchequer is badly depleted. However, with this 
possible exception, the function of protecting private 
property is exceedingly well performed by a good sheikh. 
I have traveled in Arabia in a caravan where one of the 
camels carried forty thousand rupees. This sum was 
part of the revenue of Hasa and was bound for Riyadh. 
This is a journey of five days through the empty desert, 
but there was no guard accompanying the money nor was 
the least secrecy observed regarding it. I myself helped 
to load that money on the camel’s back repeatedly. An 
ordinary Bedouin camel-man took it fron: Hasa with a 
letter stating its amount. He delivered them both five 
days later in Riyadh and received for his work a moderate 
pay. No one except the western stranger was even sur- 
prised at transporting money in that manner. 

The task of maintaining public order is far easier in 
the desert within the limits of a single tribe than in a 
large oasis city. The ruler of an oasis is appointed by 
the chief under whose control the oasis is, and he exer- 
cises all the powers of a local sheikh. Inefficiency on his 
part would probably result in his removal from above 
before he was assassinated by his constituents. His life 
is therefore perhaps safer than that of a desert sheikh, 
but there are many things which make his task much the 
more difficult of the two. 

The first difficulty is that in these cities, where there 
is a large artisan and merchant community and where the 
population is almost entirely of a settled character, tribal 
solidarity and tribal loyalty tend to disappear. Loyalty 1s 
not so obviously essential to the community life; and what 
is more, the population includes men of diverse origins at- 
tracted to the city because of the opportunity to make 


146 THE ARAB AT HOME 


money or perhaps to study at the feet of some noted re- 
ligious teacher. There is almost no community spirit, 
and thus the function of the ruler is at once broadened 
and made more difficult. He becomes of necessity a good 
deal of a czar, and it is significant that almost always 
such a ruler is brought in from outside. In that atmos- 
phere a member of the community, being at the same time 
a member of one or the other of the local cliques, can- 
not be trusted to administer unbiased justice. An 
outsider is brought in who is the father and judge of 
them all. 

Divisions in such a community are likely to be first 
of all along religious lines. Included in the population 
there will be both Shiahs and Sunnis, between whom 
there is practically no intercourse at all except in the most 
formal business way. Their religious ideas are as far 
apart as the poles, and each group regards the other as 
little or no better than infidels. I have been warmly as- 
sured many times that as a Christian I was far more 
acceptable to the speaker than his differing and hereti- 
cal Moslem compatriots. Rioting breaks out between 
these two communities at the least provocation. Mur- 
der is’ not’ infrequent, once the hand of the. ruler 
weakens. In such a community the task of the ruler is 
no easy one. The matter is made more difficult if 
Jews and Christians are to be found in the city. Out- 
rages against them are frequent, and it requires all the 
wisdom and power that such a ruler possesses to main- 
tain public order under such circumstances. 

Racial divisions are to be found in such a community 
as well. There are likely to be a number of Persians 
and possibly some Baluchs. Quite certainly there will 
be a large number of negroes, some slave and some 


THE ARAB SHEIKH 147 


free. These all live together without trouble, and it 
must be admitted that public order is less disturbed by 
the mixture of races than it would tend to be with us 
under the same circumstances. 

The divisions that make the most trouble in such a 
community are the economic divisions. Men of great 
wealth live in these oases; at least their wealth is great 
judged by local standards, and it seems such a natural 
and justifiable thing for the poor to rob the rich that 
the governor of an oasis city is never free from con- 
cern on this point. The first sign of a weakening rule 
is not the outbreak of race or religious rioting but the 
increase of robberies and of murders that have robbery 
as their motive. It is astonishing how free from these 
the great oasis communities are. In the days of 
Sheikh Mubarak of Kuwait years went by without a 
single robbery and Hasa under Ibn Jelouee could probably 
show a better record still. Success in this regard is 
the sign of a good ruler, and the first criticism of a 
governor who is failing to govern properly is quite 
certain to be the statement that under his hand robbery 
and murder are beginning to appear in his district or 
tribe. 

In most oasis communities, as for instance in the 
province of Hasa under Ibn Jelouee, there is the ut- 
most freedom of assemblage and of speech. No well- 
behaved citizen appears to be under any constraint 
whatever. In the untroubled freedom of life and as- 
sociation and movement no European or American city 
could surpass these Arab communities. This freedom, 
of course, would not cover propaganda against the 
government or the promulgation of new religious 
ideas. Change of religion the Mohammedan looks 


148 THE ARAB AT HOME 


upon much as we do upon treason, and the offense is 
punished in the same way. 

Public order is thus maintained with a degree of 
success that is remarkable, and it is worth a moment’s 
time to notice the methods that the Arab ruler uses to 
attain so conspicuous a success. Much has been written 
of the extreme brutality of the punishments meted out 
to offenders. The sheikh’s success depends only to a 
very small degree upon this. The first essential feature 
of the Arab method is its speed. Possibly the same day 
that a theft is committed the hand of the thief will be 
cut off. No time is wasted in legal formalities. Wit- 
nesses are brought in, briefly examined, judgment is ren- 
dered and promptly carried out. There is no legal red 
tape. There is no appeal. On the basis of the available 
data a judgment is passed which, whether accurate or not, 
is at least prompt, and the connection between infraction 
and punishment is so obvious that the lesson is missed by 
no one. A man robs a caravan and probably in less 
than twenty-four hours his decapitated body will be 
lying in the dust of the public bazaar as an object lesson 
for the entire community. 

Moreover, justice in Arabia is remarkably accurate. 
The Arab sheikh takes into account the previous record 
of the man under trial. He listens carefully to the wit- 
nesses, asks them questions and then renders judgment 
with an instinct that at times is almost uncanny. It 
certainly does not often happen in Arabia that an innocent 
man is punished. The number of witnesses examined 
seems small and there is no opportunity for a careful 
analysis of the evidence for and against the man on trial 
such as we allow in our courts. Nevertheless, when the 
sheikh passes judgment, his accuracy is surprising. 


THE ARAB SHEIKH 149 


When to this combination of prompt and accurate de- 
tection of offenders is added unimaginably brutal punish- 
ment, the deterrent effect on the Arab mind becomes very 
great indeed. It is safe to say that the memory of that 
decapitated body in the dust of the Hofuf bazaar will save 
many a caravan from being plundered, just as the memory 
of the bleeding backs of unconscious tribesmen has kept 
uncounted townsmen from insult and mistreatment at the 
hands of the Bedouin visitors in Hasa. 

In every decision, also, the sheikh has the community 
good in mind and not merely individual justice. A crim- 
inal decapitated in private would be just as severely pun- 
ished, but by leaving the headless body out all day in the 
dusty market for inspection the public is educated. I 
saw an example of this point on a visit to Hasa. A 
shopkeeper missed an article of some value from his 
shop and thinking of the few who had just been in, de- 
cided that it must have been carried away by his last 
visitor. He hunted the man up at once and found him 
with the article in his hands. On being charged with the 
theft, the culprit claimed to have bought the article from 
a third Arab, whom he pointed out to the policeman ar- 
resting him. All three were promptly taken before the 
Governor, but the third party was dismissed with apol- 
ogies by Ibn Jelouee without three sentences of investi- 
gation. This was not simply because the Governor’s in- 
stinct correctly guessed his innocence. It was also the 
ruler’s desire to demonstrate to thieves that such a 
subterfuge would do them no good and need not be 
tried again. 

Methods are more complicated in the oasis centers than 
in the desert. The sheikh of a desert tribe settles prac- 
tically every dispute himself and judges every criminal, 


150 THE ARAB AT HOME 


but that is not the case in the oasis city. There the ruler 
is advised by a council that amounts to a cabinet, and he 
may make very considerable use of this aid. In Hasa Ibn 
Jelouee has turned over to his subordinates nearly the 
whole of the local administration of the place, confining 
his own activities to the larger affairs of general policy 
and relations with the Bedouin tribes of the vicinity. A 
large place comes to be filled in these oasis communities 
by the kadi, or religious judge. This man settles the 
cases that come under the religious law. These are all 
under the governor’s authority originally, but since he is 
not a legal expert, he refers a certain number of them on; 
and if the kadi is a good man and the ruler feels that the 
people’s interests are safe in his hands, practically every 
such case is referred to him. There are a large number of 
cases of this sort, as for instance all cases involving mar- 
riage and divorce and disputes regarding inheritance. 
Criminal cases may sometimes be referred to the kad1, 
but most of these the ruler disposes of himself. 

There remains to be mentioned the unofficial arbitrator, 
who fills a large function both in the tribes and in the oasis 
communities. Two parties to a dispute often submit 
their case to such an arbitrator and abide by his decision. 
Naturally it is a man’s reputation for fair-mindedness 
and keen analysis that brings these cases to him. There 
is no fee connected with such service, but a man’s prestige 
in the community is greatly enhanced by being asked to 
act as arbitrator in this way and he comes in the course 
of time to be looked on as one of the leading citizens. 
Mohammed Effendi in Hasa is a notable example. I 
have rarely attended his evening reception when one or 
two such cases were not brought before him for adjudica- 
tion. His honesty is a proverb over all eastern Arabia. 


THE ARAB SHEIKH ES 


Perhaps ninety per cent of the small disputes of the com- 
munity are settled by this method of arbitration. 

Public order is maintained with a very small police 
force. When I last visited Hasa, the entire military force 
of this oasis community of perhaps 100,000 amounted to 
one hundred men under Ibn Jelouee’s personal direction. 
These men are carefully supervised and no oppression on 
their part is permitted. While we were there, an alterca- 
tion occurred between a policeman and a local merchant in 
the bazaar, and in the fracas the policeman’s cap was torn. 
He came to register a complaint with Ibn Jelouee but was 
received with little favor. The Governor listened to his 
story and knew that if any difference had arisen the fault 
was without doubt with the policeman, for no ordinary 
citizen would insult or mistreat one of the police force 
without cause. “Here is a rupee for a new cap,” said 
the Governor, “and listen—if you are found in trouble 
with a villager again, you will be beaten to insensibility 
as a punishment.” 

Next to maintaining public order the sheikh looks upon 
it as his main business to protect the weak and poor from 
the rich and strong. Throughout the East, the rapacity 
of the rich is notorious. To corner some necessity of 
life and grow rich while the poor starve, is a common 
practice of the rich Brahmins in India. The interests of 
the poor are not altogether safe in the hands of the rich 
even in our country, and the capacity of the lower class 
for self-defense is far less in the Orient than it is with 
us. The Arab, being a very poor business man at the 
best, and lacking ability to cooperate on his own account, 
falls an easy prey to such manipulation of capital. If it 
were not for the protection afforded by his ruler, his lot 
would be a hard one. To his inability to cooperate, he 


152 THE ARAB AT HOME 


adds a reckless lack of thrift which leads him to spend 
his income, however large, cheerfully when it comes in, 
with no regard at all for tomorrow when he may face ab- 
solute want. The natural results are seen in the pitiful 
condition of the men who do the work in the gardens of 
Mesopotamia and the pearl divers of Bahrein. A trifle 
further down in the scale of misery is the slave commu- 
nity of Dibai. 

The greatest development of the avarice of the rich is 
seen where the introduction of western ideas of the sa- 
credness of life and property has permitted its unchecked 
growth. Under the primitive Arab government it is not 
allowed to flourish unchecked. There are various meth- 
ods by which the ruler tries to counteract the rapacity of 
the rich. Various articles of food have their price fixed 
and any exactions over the given figure are rigorously 
punished. Within limits this is a useful measure. I 
once sat in Mubarak’s judgment hall in Kuwait when the 
leading merchant of the city was publicly rebuked and 
ordered to reduce his freight rates on dates from Basra 
to Kuwait. As a permanent method, however, it is a 
failure, for it simply means that a particular industry 
languishes. In Bahrein, for instance, the price of fish 
has been arbitrarily fixed at a point far below their real 
value. The result is not cheap fish but no fish at all. It 
is easy to prevent men from charging more than a certain 
price for fish, but even an Arab sheikh cannot make men 
fish if they have no adequate inducement for doing so. 

A more effective means of keeping the balance some- 
what even is the cancellation of oppressive contracts, espe- 
cially when unforeseen circumstances arise, as for in- 
stance in Katif when the date crop has been a partial or 
complete failure. The original contract to deliver to the 


THE ARAB SHEIKH Wy bae 


owner of the garden a specified number of packages of 
dates would ruin the gardener, and the Sheikh of Katif 
will dictate a modification of the terms in the cultivator’s 
favor. To be sure, the owner will usually modify them 
without the submission of the matter to the local sheikh, 
but it is his fear that the sheikh will revise them dras- 
tically that makes him willing to revise them moderately. 
In the coast cities there is a steady stream of disputes be- 
tween the pearl divers and their captains. I once sat in 
the judgment hall in Hasa and saw a pearl-diving cap- 
tain dismissed with some asperity by Ibn Jelouee with the 
decision against him. From a remark of the Governor’s 
it was evident that technically this captain was in the 
right, but the Governor considered that the scales needed 
a little weighting that day in favor of the poor. Even the 
treatment of the slaves in Dibai is mitigated by the fact 
that the Sheikh frequently interferes in their favor when 
they invoke his protection. 

In this connection the Arabs tell a story of Ibn Saoud, 
the great chief, on his first official visit to Katif after 
he had driven the Turks out of the district. After the 
fashion of the Orient this was the occasion for complaints 
to be brought and differences to be straightened out. Into 
the great public reception room came a pearl-diving cap- 
tain, dragging with him a diver who owed him money, 
with the old complaint that the poor man would not 
pay his debts. Ibn Saoud knew, as does every one in 
that part of the world, that the diving captains are utterly 
unscrupulous in their methods and outrageous in their 
demands. The whole system is one that Ibn Saoud hates. 
So he called for the account book and it was brought. 
The page with this particular diver’s entries was found. 
“Ts this the entire account? How much is the total?” 


154 THE ARAB AT HOME 


The total was announced. Then Ibn Saoud took the 
book and wrote down over the page of entries. “Con- 
cerning the indebtedness of Khalid ibn Abdullah, the 
diver, to Abdul Karim, the captain, he is excused from 
paying the first and the last and the entire amount of it,” 
and put his seal upon the whole. It was a healthy lesson, 
which doubtless had a salutary effect on that district at 
least. 

However, the efficiency of the Arab/system in protect- 
ing the poor from the rapacity of the rich does not de- 
pend fundamentally on such palliations as these. It rests 
rather in the nature of that government and in the charac- 
ter of the community itself. Where life is cheap and 
assassination a trifle, popular opinion is supreme. The 
community wants the poor protected from the rapacious 
rich. This feeling is inevitable, for most of the people 
are poor. The ruler knows that his tenure of office, 
and quite possibly even his life, depend upon his success 
at this point. Moreover, there is another element that 
exerts a large influence. The sheikh is chronically short 
of funds and would welcome an opportunity of killing 
some rich man and confiscating his property. The only 
reason why he does not do so is that the community would 
not tolerate it. Such an assassination unprovoked by 
adequate cause would be likely to cost the sheikh his seat 
and his life. But if one of these same rich men is so op- 
pressive and hard in his business dealings that he becomes 
unpopular, the situation is entirely changed. If his date 
gardeners are treated with rigor so that they have poor 
food and wretched clothing and have to live in houses 
scarcely fit for animals, if beggars coming to him for 
food are turned away with curses, if debtors are sold out 
without pity when their debts fall due, then the commu- 


THE ARAB SHEIKH 155 


nity comes to long for the death of this rich man; and the 
way being thus prepared, the sheikh will attend to the 
rest promptly. 

The rich man knows all this, and he sees to it that his 
popularity sinks to no such low level. Beggars coming 
to his castle are liberally fed. Debtors who are unable to 
meet their obligations on time are treated with great 
leniency and given almost indefinite extensions. The 
date gardener has no difficulty in securing a reduction in 
his contract if the year has been bad. The rich Arab 
of inland Arabia is surprisingly lenient and benevolent. 
It is not fair to him personally to attribute this attitude 
to a conscious currying of favor with the community. 
He has always acted thus, and his father before him. It 
is the very exceptional man who does otherwise, for the 
spirit of kindliness and benevolence has become a tradi- 
tion of the class. But once let that class be exposed to 
the blessings of modern civilization, where life and prop- 
erty are safe, and this tradition withers and dies like a 
flower in the desert. 

The sheikh is therefore an important factor in main- 
taining the economic status of the community, especially 
in the oases, where the primitive conditions of desert life 
are complicated by the existence of social classes. 
Sheikhs and their retinue themselves constitute the first 
privileged class of Arab society. They have the power 
of public taxation, and there is no complaint if they spend 
large sums upon their wives and upon their favorites. 
That much is expected. Among the Arabs a surprising 
amount of this sort of extortion 1s patiently endured, pro- 
vided the functions of government are well performed. 
With the cultivation of oases two additional privileged 
classes appear, the owners of land and the possessors of 


156 THE ARAB AT HOME 


capital. it is not an accident nor an arbitrary and unjust 
decree that makes oasis land private property. It takes 
no little business ability to make a profit from the cultiva- 
tion of land under the adverse conditions due to scarcity 
of water. Without the use of its natural resources the 
community would inevitably sink from the level of com- 
fort that the oasis attains to the level of want and dis- 
tress that prevails among the desert tribes. Private 
ownership is the only possible way to secure the cultiva- 
tion of these gardens. The prosperity and progress of 
the community also depend upon the appearance of a cer- 
tain amount of free capital. Without it no transporta- 
tion of goods and almost no exchange would be possible, 
except perhaps between immediate neighbors. But the 
price that the community pays for the services of private 
property and of capital depends absolutely on the temper 
of the community. The community is not under the con- 
_ trol of these privileged classes; rather the will of the 
privileged classes is pitted against the will of the commu- 
nity and the amount of tribute extorted is simply the 
measure of the balance reached between those two con- 
tending forces. In such a situation the Arab expects his 
sheikh to maintain the equilibrium and as a matter of 
fact the sheikh usually succeeds very well. 

From the standpoint of pure theory, any one of these 
three privileged classes might perhaps be expected to 
absorb all the benefits of settled agricultural life and the 
life of the common citizen in the oasis be expected to re- 
main at the level of Bedouin life in the desert. Accord- 
ing to Henry George, rents should absorb all the benefits 
of the changed manner of life, and according to Karl 
Marx, the extortions of capital should take it all, whereas 
the man with his attention fixed on the possibilities of 


THE ARAB SHEIKH 157 


government monopolies might expect that particular class 
to secure all of it. The fact is that the three privileged 
classes together do not get half of it. Universally the lot 
of the average citizen in the oasis is vastly above the 
desert level. Universally also, the three privileged classes 
gain a preé€minence over their fellows and a certain 
amount of comfort and luxury. Just where the balance 
is struck depends upon the temper of the community. 
The timid and fearful pearl-diving community of the 
coast suffers almost anything with little complaint. The 
inland Bedouin tribes, on the other hand, allow far less 
extortion as a price for a much better government than 
the pearl divers, and pay less for the proper development 
of their agricultural resources than the inhabitants of 
oases near the coast. 

The sheikh has one other major function and that is the 
maintaining of foreign relations. Boundaries of graz- 
ing grounds are always indeterminate in a country where 
there are no surveyors and no settled central government. 
Everybody wants all he can get, and as soon as a tribe 
thinks itself strong enough to do s0, it will try to encroach 
on the domains of its neighbors. Within the tribe the 
sheikh fosters the spirit of absolute cooperation and loy- 
alty. Everybody is equal and the interests of the tribe 
are supreme. Outside of tribal boundaries the tribe 1s 
a pirate, and inasmuch as it is surrounded by pirates, 
the maintaining of relations with other tribes comes to 
be an important function. Raids on other tribes 
must be planned and adequate defense against enemies 
organized. 

These raids cause singularly little personal resentment. 
I inquired as to this matter once from a Bedouin who had 
come to Kuwait for surgical treatment made necessary by 


158 THE ARAB AT HOME 


the bullet of a raider. J remarked that surely the man 
who shot him must have been a very bad man. The pa- 
tient did not catch the humor of the question and hastened 
to the defense of his enemy against this slander. “Oh 
no,’’ he said, “I do not suppose that he was a bad man. I 
tried,’ and here he grinned a fine broad grin, “I tried to 
shoot him but did not have good luck.’ This raiding is 
the national game of the Arabs and baseball in America 
does not furnish better sport. Without this excitement 
they feel lost, and there is much dissatisfaction with Ibn 
Saoud’s government because of his stern suppression of 
this activity. 

There remains to be discussed the collection of taxes, 
in Arabia, as everywhere in the world, an important 
government function. The Arab chief wandering with 
his tribe in the desert has no large income. He pos- 
sesses many camels and goats with probably at least a 
few horses. He receives a moderate tax in kind from all 
members of the tribe. This is supposed to be a religious 
tax, the gakat, and was originally intended for the sup- 
port of the poor. The sheikh of course supports the 
poor and so he collects and administers this tax. Just 
how much of it is so spent is never investigated. It 
forms a considerable part of the external revenue of the 
sheikh. The less important sheikhs receive little in this 
way and are dependent for almost all their income on their 
flocks and herds. Some of them are wretchedly poor. 

The sheikhs who control oasis cities are in a much bet- 
ter case. There is a tax on all the gardens, which must 
run up to between five and ten per cent of their produce. 
This is sometimes levied as a flat rate per date tree. It is 
difficult to arrive at its percentage rate in such cases. As 
administered in Hasa at the present time, it appears to be 





A BEDOUIN SHEIKH 





THE ARAB SHEIKH 159 


easily borne. It amounts to not over two rupees each year 
per tree. As far-as an outsider can learn, now that one 
ruler controls most of the central part of the peninsula, 
the taxes are all sent to him. Former chiefs must be 
content with the income from their private property. It 
is an easy matter to collect taxes in the oases. Ibn 
Saoud’s lieutenants appear to be very efficient in their 
bookkeeping ; I have watched dozens come into the treas- 
urer’s office in Hofuf, the capital of Hasa, and have never 
yet seen a man delayed five minutes to find out the exact 
amount he owed the state. The collection of taxes from 
the Bedouins is a more difficult matter, and the man who 
collects these taxes has some surprising experiences. 
They are sent in, however, and with much less difficulty 
now than formerly, since Ibn Saoud’s name and power 
have grown to be so great. 

Besides the direct taxes, the sheikhs near the coast 
have long since learned that import and export duties offer 
an easy way of adding to their incomes. The customs of 
a coast port are sold to the highest bidder, an evil sys- 
tem that may quite possibly have been copied from the 
Turks but in any case is universal now. The sheikh is 
thus relieved of the responsibility of administering the 
customs himself, and when he supervises the matter with 
an iron hand, as Ibn Saoud does at present, the system 
works very well. In the days of the Turks the customs 
of Hasa, Katif and the adjacent coast were sold as a 
whole for the sum of seventy thousand rupees a year. 
Now after ten years of good government under Ibn 
Saoud, they were sold last year for seven hundred 
thousand. 

The original idea in Arabia seems to have been that the 
sheikh should collect no taxes but live from the income 


160 THE ARAB AT HOME 


of his own property. All over the peninsula, however, 
they have so far departed from this as to collect the 
gakat and the customs and administer the money more 
or less for their own purposes. But the original idea has 
never been lost sight of, and every sheikh gains a large 
part of his income from his own productive properties. 
The late Sheikh Mubarak of Kuwait was enormously 
wealthy in date gardens around Fao. His lavish ex- 
penditures were made possible by the income he received 
from these gardens, for he received very little from his 
citizens except a small export and import duty. Sheikh 
Said of Dibai does not collect any customs and he has no 
income at all except from his private holdings. Ibn 
Saoud, who has an income from his customs of seven 
hundred thousand rupees, or over two hundred thousand 
dollars, probably collects two hundred thousand rupees 
from other sources of taxation, and his followers tell me 
that from his various gardens and other private properties 
he receives an equal amount. Arabs estimate his annual 
income at not far from two million rupees, apart from a 
subsidy of seventy-five thousand rupees a month which 
he has been receiving from the British Government. A\l- 
though this is a trifle compared with western standards, 
it makes him the outstanding figure in Arabia, and it is 
by means of this money that he maintains his reputation 
for hospitality. As everywhere else in the world, gov- 
ernment would collapse if the official income were 
stopped. 

There are some things which an Arab sheikh does not 
do. He takes no interest in the promotion of public 
health. It would not occur to him that such an activity 
came within the functions of a ruler. Also he takes no 
part in the supervision of religious practices. He would 


THE ARAB SHEIKH 161 


interfere, no doubt, if it were reported that some one was 
teaching heretical doctrines, but granted a normal course 
of affairs, he has no religious function except to pray in 
the mosque like any other citizen. Religious instruction 
and observances are in the hands of religious teachers. 

The sheikh also makes no effort to direct the economic 
life of the community aside from the modification of con- 
tracts and occasional fixing of prices mentioned above. 
He is glad to see evidences of prosperity but does not 
imagine that he has any function either to stimulate or to 
guide economic development. The idea that he should 
take the initiative in public improvements, such .as the 
building of a wharf, would seem to him a curious and 
insane notion. In the late days of the Turkish occupation 
of Katif, the town was governed by a local 'Arab who was 
at the same time a Turkish official. This man, Hadj1 
Mansur Pasha, conceived the idea of moving the bazaar 
to a new location close to the sea and dredging a canal 
up to the head of the bazaar, so that the sail boats 
upon which the community depends for its trade could 
be brought in at all times, either at high or low tide and 
be unloaded in the bazaar itself. It was a splendid idea, 
and would have contributed greatly to the town’s pros- 
perity. When the new bazaar was about half finished 
and the canal half dredged, Mansur Pasha died, and a 
little later the place was taken by the Arabs and the Turks 
driven out. Katif has been well governed since then. 
Public order has been preserved, and the misgovernment 
of the Turks is over. Property is worth at least twice 
as much as it was before. But I have never heard the 
least suggestion of finishing the harbor improvements that 
Mansur Pasha began. Abdur Rahman bin Sualim, the 
governor of Katif, is one of the best rulers of all Arabia, 


162 THE ARAB AT HOME 


but I am sure that if any one suggested to him the idea 
of completing that splendid project he would be aston- 
ished. Governments are not supposed to do that sort of 
thing. A private effort to do this he would welcome and 
give it every encouragement, but a governor spends his 
time on other and more important tasks. He is there 
to govern, and that means to preserve public order, hold 
the balance of equality among all citizens of the commu- 
nity and organize its relations and contacts with other 
tribes. Further than that he recognizes no responsibility 
whatever, and no ruler in the world has less sympathy 
with the socialists’ idea that the government should be 
the instrument of the cooperative economic life of the 
community. 


CHAPTER VIII 
IMB eV AOI ONO! NTE ONIN OIG 


governed by the Turks. Before the war, Mesopo- 

tamia, Hejaz, Yemen and Hasa were all Turkish 
territory, and Turkey at times laid claim to the entire 
peninsula. The Turks formed a very small minority of 
the population in all of the districts they controlled. 
They were little more than a governing caste. Even in 
Mesopotamia where the number of Turkish inhabitants 
was the largest, they amounted to only a small percentage 
of the population. The rampant individualism of the 
Arab tribes and the consequent impossibility of their 
working and fighting together made possible the subju- 
gation of large areas by this far distant nation, which 
produced no better fighters then they and certainly not 
nearly so good governors and administrators. 

The theory of Turkish government is not greatly dif- 
ferent from that of the Arabs. The function of the gov- 
ernment is the preservation of public order, the protection 
of the poor from the rich and the maintenance of out- 
side relationships. These things are to be done by a gov- 
ernor who is a deputy of his overlord, the Sultan, and 
who is guided and to some extent limited by a codified 
law. ‘There is also a sort of official local council upon 
which all the different sections of the population are rep- 


resented. The framework of the government is thus 
163 


P= many years a large number of the Arabs were 


164 THE ARAB AT HOME 


quite good, certainly no worse than the Arab system and 
probably better. The codified law, by universal testi- 
mony, is excellent, although the fact that no provision is 
made for capital punishment would seem to be a weak- 
ness. Fifteen years imprisonment is the utmost punish- 
ment allowed. As far as Arabia is concerned, however, 
this limitation was more theoretical than actual. A reso- 
lute governor might execute a dozen criminals a day, and 
that in bizarre and terrible ways. His lack of a code 
punishment did not hinder him. 

However, in a country such as Arabia a codified law 
is a very mixed blessing. Every consideration of speed 
and effectiveness calls for the Arab plan of an unham- 
pered one-man government. The matter is made worse 
by the appearance of a flock of lawyers. They are per- 
haps indispensable if we must work with a codified law, 
but in Arabia it is impossible to regard them as anything 
but a detriment. They obstruct the process of justice, 
and as in India, they are a great factor in stimulating 
the appetite of the people for lawsuits. Associated with 
them are whole rolls of red tape, innumerable delays 
about witnesses, and technicalities of every sort. 

Courts such as these become nests of bribery, and 
it is impossible to get any business done with such offi- 
cials except by means of bribes. It is a pleasure, how- 
ever, to record that in the early days of the Committee 
of Union and Progress Constantinople was more or 
less free from this evil. In 1912 when I applied for 
a medical certificate, there was not the slightest odor of 
corruption in any bureau with which I had any business 
and not the smallest gratuity was asked by any official 
either high or low. If it is necessary to record the fact 
that this change did not spread into the provinces, but 


THE RULE OF THE TURK 165 


instead the old standards were brought back from the 
provinces to Constantinople, it is still permissible to be- 
lieve that Constantinople’s condition then is a promise of 
what the future may some day hold for the whole of 
Turkey. 

Yet no less than with Arabs themselves, the success 
of a Turkish administration depends upon the ruler. 
The government, in fact, is the ruler. The success or 
failure of a Turkish administration depends very little 
upon the perfection of the law, and very little upon the 
ability of subordinates. Everything depends upon the 
governor himself. 

Few greater surprises could be possible to a West- 
erner than to meet one of the men whom Constantinople 
was accustomed to send out to these difficult posts. Our 
western conception is that of a burly, roughly dressed 
barbarian, his hands dripping with blood and his whole 
manner that of savage and bloodthirsty cruelty, the pic- 
ture, in short, that we have gained from the cartoons 
in our newspapers and the somewhat ignorant and un- 
reasonable denunciation of the Turk that is common 
in our press. The difference between the picture and 
the facts is ludicrous. The Turkish official is a man 
of considerable education and extraordinary polish. 
The average American missionary is far behind him in 
his acquaintance with modern languages. It is some- 
what of an eye opener to a raw Westerner to have one 
of these men courteously try to converse, first in Turk- 
ish, then in French and then in German, all beautifully 
at command. It is usually necessary for the missionary 
to converse in English or Arabic, probably the latter, 
although the official, being Turkish, dislikes to talk in 
Arabic, which has always been to him the tongue of a 


166 THE ARAB AT HOME 


subject race. A Frenchman himself cannot surpass the 
polished and courteous manner of these Turks. I have 
traveled a number of times with minor Turkish off- 
cials third class in a river steamer, and in this unkempt 
and Bohemian way we lived together for some days. 
When his port is reached, however, there is a marvelous 
transformation. The Turkish official goes ashore im- 
maculately shaved and dressed. Even the creases of 
his clothes are in order. He might have stepped out of 
some salon in Paris. I have marveled at this trans- 
formation many times and envied such an ability at 
costume changing. 

The Turkish officials who ruled in Arabia and may 
possibly rule there again were men of education and pol- 
ish, and many of them in addition men of great ability. 
Nevertheless, as rulers of an alien people they failed 
and failed lamentably. Worse government than the 
Turkish it would be difficult to imagine, at least as far 
as it has been seen in Arabia, and I think that most 
Westerners who have come into contact with these men 
have at times stopped to wonder why their great abilities 
produced no better result. The reasons are not far to 
seek. The method of appointment is almost sufficient 
of itself to make good government impossible. The 
positions are auctioned off to the highest bidder. To 
a western mind such a method of selection would seem 
absolutely fatal and the prospect for good government 
utterly hopeless. As a matter of fact, however, the men 
so secured are often men of great ability, excellently 
fitted for the work. Good government in the East does 
not require incorruptible and unselfish men for its real- 
ization; if it did, the case would be hopeless. Fortu- 
nately, a strong-handed freebooter may make a very ca- 


THE RULE OF THE TURK 167 


pable and efficient governor. Such a man, by reducing 
to one the number of pirates preying upon the public, 
will afford a much better government than a weak man 
of better intentions; for the public is far better off plun- 
dered by one predatory governor than plundered by fifty 
predatory merchants and land-owners. / 

If there could have been some way to insure that each 
appointee would keep his position for five years, the 
character of the Turkish rule in Arabia might have been 
a hundred per cent better. In Hasa, for instance, where 
the Turks ruled for nearly fifty years and where they 
failed to leave behind them any significant traces ex- 
cept the cordial hatred of the whole community, this 
briefness of term was the main difficulty. The average 
tenure of office must have been far under two years, 
and frequently for months the position would remain 
vacant, the province being administered in the meantime 
by some deputy. The ablest and best intentioned ad- 
ministrator in the world can hardly expect to accomplish 
anything worth while in such a short time. 

To judge by the testimony of the local Arabs, who 
certainly were not prejudiced in their favor, many of 
these rulers were capable men and also to some extent 
men of good intentions. Many of them were anxious 
to add to their prestige and reputation by making a con- 
spicuous success of their administrations. Turkish civi- 
lization and culture might have made a distinct impres- 
sion on the Arab to his great benefit if some of them had 
been allowed a reasonable time to work out their policies. 
The plan already mentioned for a relocation of the 
Katif bazaar and a dredging of the Katif harbor was a 
typical Turkish plan. Unfortunately its ending is typi- 
cally Turkish also. The pestilent method of selling 


168 THE ARAB AT HOME 


such offices to the highest bidder is fatal to all possibil- 
ities of good government, especially if the term of sery- 
ice}as to bev only aivear iorva year audvavndieay inthe 
nature of the case the appointee can devote his time 
to little else than reimbursing himself and if possible 
adding some slight profit on the transaction. With a 
reasonably long term of office there is opportunity for 
this particular motive to disappear to some extent and 
for a government official’s normal ambition to make 
a success of his job to come to the surface. It goes 
without saying also that the intricacies of each local 
situation can scarcely be mastered in eighteen months, 
so that the formulation of any reasonably good and prac- 
ticable program was impossible for these men even 
granted that they were actuated by an intense desire to 
rule for the good of the community. 

To these reasons for failure must be added two other 
far more important even than they, namely that the 
rulers were usually neither honest nor efficient. With 
some exceptions the Turkish official looked upon his 
office as a means for gaining a livelihood or of amassing 
a fortune. Nothing could surpass the venality and cor- 
ruption of the entire body of government servants, from 
the meanest scribe to the governor of the district. The 
Arabs have a story that once upon a time the citizens of 
a certain village decided that the local trade would be 
benefited by the construction of a bridge over a river 
which ran close to their town and cut off trade from one 
whole side of the country. They estimated that the 
bridge would cost four Turkish pounds, which amounts 
to something less than twenty dollars, and being unable 
to manage so great a sum themselves, they applied to 


THE RULE OF THE TURK 169 


the local mutasarrif for that sum from government 
funds. 

The mutasarrif after investigation approved the en- 
terprise and sent the request up to the vali of the dis- 
trict. “The people of this village,” he wrote, “desire 
that the government build them a bridge over the river 
and after investigation I cordially approve of the project. 
It will cost in the neighborhood of forty pounds and 
I take the liberty of expressing the warm hope that you 
will feel free to grant their request.’”’ The vali, on his 
part, examined the matter and approved it as something 
that would undoubtedly benefit that part of his province, 
so he passed the request on to Constantinople with his 
approbation. “The people of this town,” he wrote, 
“have asked for a government appropriation of four 
hundred pounds for the construction of a bridge over 
the river which runs just outside of their village. This 
project has the cordial approval of the local mutasarrif, 
and I am happy to add that my own judgment coincides 
with his entirely. It is an improvement that should 
benefit a large region by improving its facilities for trade, 
and I take the liberty of expressing my earnest hope 
that it may receive your favorable consideration.”’ 

The project commended itself to the Constantinople 
authorities. Four hundred pounds were sent to the valt, 
who kept three hundred and sixty, sending forty to the 
mutasarrif, who kept thirty-six, remitting four pounds 
to the village council, who built the bridge; and every- 
body was happy. This story is doubtless pure fiction, 
but like much fiction in this world it is absolutely true. 

Added to this venality so complete as to be almost 
sublime was an inefficiency apparently as profound as 


170 THE ARAB AT HOME 


the bottomless pit. The ordinary Turkish governor 
might have lined his own pockets at twice the rate he did 
and at the same time have cut the burdens of the people 
in two if he had possessed the least ability to administer 
the country efficiently. However great his education and 
however immaculate the polished surface which he pre- 
sented to the outside world, efficiency was an unfathomed 
mystery to him. The Government House accounts in 
Hasa are said to have been kept, or rather left unkept, 
in the days of the Turks by a staff of clerks and copy- 
ists that numbered somewhere between twenty and fifty, 
according to differing local estimates. Mohammed 
Effendi now transacts this same business, magnified in 
volume many times under the rule of Ibn Saoud, with 
the help of two assistants. It is safe to estimate that 
men are delayed now in the transaction of their govern- 
ment business about a tenth as long as they used to be. 
Hasa 1s a particularly good example to quote on this 
point, for Mohammed Effendi officiated under both 
régimes. 

The government administered by these Turkish offi- 
cials was, however, not nearly so unpopular as we of 
the West might expect. It is the fashion now to curse 
the memory of the Turks in Hasa, but that is largely 
due to the fact that peculiar circumstances made their 
administration bear heavily on the common people in es- 
pecially obvious ways. It was their failure to hold the lo- 
cal Bedouin tribes in check that has made their name ana- 
thema in that province. The Bedouins, thus given a more 
or less free hand, oppressed the townsmen cruelly. The 
actual administration of local affairs by the Turks is rarely 
mentioned and when mentioned it is often with praise. 
In Mesopotamia the attitude of the common people is 


THE RULE OF THE TURK 171, 


much more favorable to the old régime. In the days 
of the Turkish rule in that country it was the rich mer- 
chants, and especially the rich Jewish and Christian mer- 
chants, who felt the oppressive hand of the Turk as a 
heavy load. Even then the rank and file of the common 
people were more or less satisfied, and now that the Turk 
has been replaced by the efficient and honest English- 
man, even the Christian minorities sigh for the return of 
Turkish rule. 

This phenomenon, so astonishing to a western mind, 
has an explanation, like all other phenomena in this world, 
and the explanation is not simply that all the Arabs are 
fools, or as the Englishman would say, “silly asses.” 
The explanation is to be found, first of all, in the con- 
stitution of Arab society and government. Even with 
all the modifications brought in by the Turks, of which 
perhaps the greatest was the introduction of codified 
law, the general sentiment of the community was still 
Arabic and the fundamental framework of society 
Arabic also. The mutasarrif or vali was still in much 
the same position as an Arab sheikh; he held his office 
by virtue of the fact that the great mass of the people 
were more or less satisfied with him. It is true that 
it would have taken a somewhat larger percentage of 
discontent to bring about the assassination of a Turkish 
ruler than of an Arab sheikh, but the difference is, I 
think, less than might be imagined. The result was, of 
course, that the Turk, however much he might oppress 
and plunder the rich, was anxious to please the poor. 
It is easy for us to say that the price would be passed 
on to the public eventually, but the public did not recog- 
nize that fact, and their opinion rested on what they were 
able to see. 


ne THE ARAB AT HOME 


Furthermore the statement itself is not altogether 
true; not all of the cost was passed on to the public. 
The ruler regarded it as one of his functions to pro- 
tect the poor from the rich, and however much of a 
freebooter he was himself, he often managed to per- 
form this function quite efficiently. In a society where 
the ruler can arbitrarily seize half of a man’s property 
overnight and the man have no redress, it is obvious 
that much can be done by a determined ruler to keep 
the distribution of wealth more or less equal. It is ob- 
vious, too, especially if the property holder is a Jew, 
that he will groan exceedingly under these conditions, 
but it is not at all certain that the people will sympa- 
thize with him. As a matter of fact, in Mesopotamia 
they did not. They applauded the ruler. 

It goes without saying that with a codified law, and 
with all the other modifications of the Arab system in- 
troduced by the Turks, this system could not function 
so efficiently as it does with the Arabs. The date gar- 
deners of Mesopotamia were not so well protected from 
the rapacity of the rich land-owners as they are under 
Arab government in the deserts of Central Arabia. 
Still the system did function somewhat, and with the 
artisan classes and the semi-nomadic tribes of Mesopo- 
tamia it functioned better by far than with the date 
gardeners. 

There are many examples that might be quoted of 
men who were thus popular with the common people 
in Mesopotamia in the old days, although cordially hated 
by the rich. Sayyid Talib was a freebooter of the free- 
booters. He levied on the rich merchants and the Jew- 
ish money lenders and any one else that had money to 
be levied upon. He was not an official nor had he the 


THE RULE OF THE TURK 173 


shadow of a legal right to any of this money. He would 
send to a merchant the statement that before sundown 
he hoped to receive from him a gift of a thousand 
pounds and he always received it. His right to it was 
precisely the right of pirates the world over. This man’s 
character was known to every one. He lived in a great 
castle a few miles down the river from Basra. Because 
the government was not strong enough to arrest and 
execute him, he lived thus for years and even represented 
his district in the Constantinople Parliament for a time. 
His character was no secret, but he used to resent its 
being advertised, and a newspaper editor who published 
some remarks on the subject was beaten nearly to death 
in the castle where he was carried by Sayyid Talib’s 
slaves. He was, however, extremely generous toward 
the poor and fed many beggars; and the people of the 
entire district looked upon this notorious freebooter as 
one of their best friends and protectors. 

The western visitor studies the resources of the coun- 
try and sees that they are not exploited for half their 
possibilities. This he regards as the one unanswerable 
evidence that the Turkish government was exceedingly 
bad. A new government which will utilize these re- 
sources is what is needed. The Arab who has lived in 
the country all his life has a different point of view. 
The resources have always been unexploited as they are 
now, and he does not know whether they have possibil- 
ities or not. He wants the government that allows him 
the best food to eat and the most nearly decent clothes 
to wear, that makes it possible for him by effort and 
economy to live in a house that will at least keep out 
the sun and the rain. He wants more than this. He 
wants the liberty to go where he pleases without inter- 


174 THE ARAB AT HOME 


ference, and the permission to be whatever sort of Mo- 
hammedan he desires, and last but not least, he wants 
no annoying interference with his liberty for sanitary 
and police purposes. Now the Turkish ruler was able 
to supply these wants pretty well. The rich were op- 
pressed but they had plenty left. The poor had the im- 
pression, at least, of being cared for. They had enough 
to eat and wear. They were not annoyed by the re- 
strictions of civilization. The Turkish rule therefore 
was popular, far more popular with the common people 
than the British régime which has succeeded it. 

It would be a great mistake, however, to conclude 
from the popularity of the Turkish officials that their 
rule was an ideal one for the country. Under their 
administration trade languished, production remained at 
a minimum, and although reliable statistics regarding 
the rule of the Turks in Arab provinces do not exist, 
doubtless the population largely diminished also. The 
reason why this effect is not more obvious to the modern 
observer is, of course, that trade and production and 
population reached an irreducible minimum beyond which 
chaotic governmental and social conditions could not re- 
duce them and thereafter remained stationary. 

An additional bad result of the Turkish rule in Arab 
countries was the accentuation of divisions and cliques. 
It was a recognized policy of the Turks to stimulate 
division and discord and thus make the government of 
belligerent provinces somewhat easier. In Hasa, in the 
Turkish days, the Sunnis and Shiahs were never in har- 
mony. The weaker inhabitants were oppressed by the 
stronger. The Bedouins from outside came in and 
looted almost without hindrance. The Turkish empire 
has had a most indigestible mixture of races to contend 


THE RULE OF THE TURK 175 


with, but even the admittedly great difficulties of her 
task do not excuse her utter failure. Although she has 
had hundreds of years of opportunity to exert her abil- 
ities in harmonizing the different races which make up 
her population, they are now more discordant than ever, 
and we had during the war the hideous spectacle of the 
dominant race deliberately attempting to exterminate 
one of the insubordinate subject races in cold blood, 
certainly a sufficient confession of failure. 

The Sabaeans or fire-worshippers of Mesopotamia 
furnish a notable example of Turkish ineptitude in fac- 
ing this difficult problem of assimilating alien races. 
The Sabaeans are the remnants of the pre-Islamic pop- 
ulation of Mesopotamia who refused to become Moslems 
in the days of the Moslem conquest. They have been, 
and so far as their diminished numbers permit they 
still are, a most valuable asset to the country. They are 
by far the best artisans in the Arab world. Some of 
their silver work surpasses the best that India can offer. 
This community, which is absolutely peaceable and knows 
nothing of the arts of war, has been harried and per- 
secuted until now there remains only the smallest frac- 
tion of their original numbers. They now number less 
than ten thousand, if their own estimates can be trusted, 
and their complete disappearance is apparently a matter 
of only a short time. 

Another indictment that must be brought against the 
Turk in the Arab world is the fact that he failed utterly 
as a civilizing force. This was his fault and not simply 
his misfortune, as might be argued of an Arab ruler 
who has never seen the vision of the government as a 
force working to uplift society. In Hasa sanitation was 
not improved even in the most elementary way. No 


176 THE ARAB AT HOME 


improved types of public buildings were introduced. By 
easy acquiescence in Bedouin crimes and robberies trade 
was strangled rather than stimulated. No effort was 
made to establish schools. To this last statement there 
was one exception; an unfinished school building, which 
Ibn Saoud used later as a stable, was one of the prizes 
that fell to him when he captured the capital city of 
Hofuf. Least of all was any effort made under Turk- 
ish rule to develop the people along the lines of self- 
government. The pity of all this evidence of failure 
is that the Turks were possessed of a culture that had 
in it elements of great value for the Arabs. They re- 
sembled the Arabs in many ways and were infinitely 
better fitted, I think, to be the transmitters of western 
civilization to the Arabs than are the English and In- 
dians, through whom the stream is coming now. Their 
failure was complete, and it was one of the great fail- 
ures of history. 

So we have the surprising result that in 1914 upon 
the conquest of Hasa by the Wahabis of inland Arabia, 
a people who were without the smallest acquaintance with 
western civilization or culture, the whole country breathed 
a sigh of relief. The Wahabis had no culture to bring. 
They were in no position to transmit western civiliza- 
tion to the gardeners. They did, however, bring an ex- 
cellent government. Law and order were restored, and 
every form of disorder was put down with a heavy hand. 
Every law-abiding citizen was protected in the pursuit 
of his peaceful activities. In a few years property was 
rated at three times its former value and dates sold in 
the open market for three times their former price. The 
customs receipts have risen to ten times their former 
figure. There was not the slightest effort at uplift in 


THE RULE OF THE TURK id 


all this. It was simply the result of a just and strong 
government. No new roads were built, but the old ones 
were kept free from robbery and pillage. Trade was 
not stimulated, but it was made safe. Sanitation was 
not improved, but at least the death rate from assassina- 
tion disappeared. The Turk has departed from Arabia 
and Mesopotamia for the present. His first opportunity 
he wasted in a colossal failure. If the course of events 
brings him back, may he be given wisdom and leader- 
ship to do a better job next time. 


CHAPTERVIX 


THE BRITISH REGIME 


under some degree of administration by Great 

Britain. The coast cities of eastern Arabia have 
been under British influence and the island archipelago of 
Bahrein has been a British protectorate. Aden, in the 
extreme south, is also a British protectorate. Since the 
war Mesopotamia has been administered by Great Britain, 
at first under a mandate and now by special treaty ar- 
rangement; and from sometime before the war the Brit- 
ish held valuable oil lands in the near-by Arabic speaking 
part of Persia. In addition subsidies have been paid to 
various Arab chiefs. It is possible that British influence 
may be withdrawn from a part of this area, but there is 
little likelihood of Great Britain’s withdrawing from 
her oil wells in Persia. She will, too, almost cer- 
tainly remain in Basra and its adjacent area, for that 
territory she will always need to guarantee the safety of 
India. Whatever happens, we are likely to have a large 
British area to reckon with in all future consideration of 
Arabia and the Arabs. 

In governing these territories Great Britain follows the 
plan that has proved so successful in her other colonial 
possessions. In many respects her government is 
oriental, and on that account it has been the one out- 


standing success among the colonial adventures of mod- 
178 


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THE BRITISH REGIME 179 


ern times. Everything centers about the governing of- 
ficial. The men sent to Arabia are usually Indian Army 
officers who have been transferred to civil work on the 
basis of success in a competitive examination. These 
appointees are frequently familiar with a number of 
oriental languages and have had an excellent preparation 
for their work. The majority are the products of the 
best secondary schools in England, the so-called “public 
schools.’ Their fundamental training is usually clas- 
sical and exceedingly thorough, and there can be no ques- 
tion of the excellent administrators that these men make. 
A certain number of them are Cambridge and Oxford 
graduates. 

With almost never an exception, these administrators 
are men of clean life and of incorruptible uprightness 
in all their official and private dealings with the Arabs. 
With their knowledge of oriental languages and their 
special preparation they almost invariably combine a 
rare degree of common sense and a refreshing ability 
to cut through red tape when it gets in the way. Their 
industry is proverbial, and it is unfortunately a common 
thing to see them invalided home, the victims of over- 
work. They work undividedly for the public good, and 
each man hopes by fostering the development of his 
community to gain recognition and advancement in the 
service. If it is impossible sometimes to see the wisdom 
of a particular policy, it never has been possible in all 
my experience to doubt for a moment the good inten- 
tion back of it. 

There is a strange uniformity in the political out- 
look of these men, both in their attitude to local political 
thought and in their views on politics at home in Eng- 
land. They are taken from the governing class in Eng- 


180 THE ARAB AT HOME 


land and are invariably Tories. I once met one who 
enjoyed the discussion of socialism with me, but he was 
unique. There is indeed a curious similarity between 
the Arab administrator's mind and that of the civil 
servant who administers the British colonies. Both 
have the same blind confidence in the divine perfection 
of the system followed and the same surprised impa- 
tience at the least question of its fundamental correct- 
ness. I suggested once to an unusually able British ad- 
ministrator that this was one of the large reasons for 
the success of the British as colonizers all over the world, 
and to my surprise he agreed with me. “Cleverness,”’ 
he averred, was fatal in a colonial administrator. As 
might be expected, the aspirations of the people for self- 
government are not cordially appreciated by these British 
officials and the noisy and superficial, albeit very sincere, 
patriotism of the Near East in recent years finds them 
cold. They govern for the good of the people; in this 
they are absolutely sincere, but their good intentions 
would be more warmly appreciated if they could be com- 
bined with a livelier sympathy for the aspirations of the 
better educated citizens of the governed areas. 

The attitude of the people toward these rulers is in 
curious contrast to their attitude toward the Turks. 
The Turkish ruler is usually disliked by the rich and 
loved by the poor. The British ruler is loved by the 
rich and disliked by the poor. The fundamental diff- 
' culty, of course, is the same thing that makes our own 
rule unpopular in the Philippines. The rule is benevo- 
lent in purpose and efficient in administration, but the 
personal attitude of the ruling class is haughty and aloof. 
A distinct caste division is established and insisted upon 
with the ruler above and the ruled below. However 


THE BRITISH REGIME 181 


much it may reflect on the Arab’s intellect, it remains 
true that he prefers a ruler as inefficient and corrupt as 
the Turk, who treats him essentially as an equal, to an 
efficient and honest and progressive ruler like the Briton 
who treats him as an inferior. Let us not be too hard 
on the foolish Arab. Doubtless New York and Chicago 
could be more efficiently ruled by a commission from 
Denmark, but who is prepared to say that such a sug- 
gestion would be welcomed. 

The result is that, whether in Mesopotamia or in Bah- 
rein, much criticism of the ruling Power is constantly 
heard. The good qualities of the administration are 
taken as a matter of course, and small irritating details 
are magnified. One might suppose that uprightness and 
efficiency were the rule in oriental governments and that 
the only contribution made by the British is these small 
irritations. Ridiculous and utterly false stories of the 
oppressive policies and acts of the local administrator 
are circulated. They are believed and enjoyed. Inves- 
tigation will always show these reports to be false, and 
he is a foolish man who gives them a moment’s attention. 
Even the Arabs who listen probably know them to be 
exaggerated. Nevertheless, the obvious popularity of 
such tales is a significant indication of the attitude of 
the Arab mind, and however long British rule persists 
in a given place, this attitude never seems to change. 

Unfortunately there is always some basis for such 
stories. The best administrator on earth, working with 
Indian subordinates, cannot keep his establishment en- 
tirely free from bribery and corruption. His subordi- 
nates may even be guilty of worse than monetary ex- 
cesses. Such things mean instant dismissal when dis- 
covered, but the Oriental is a subtle individual and dis- 


182 THE ARAB AT HOME 


covery sometimes takes a long time. Everything of this 
sort, usually trivial, sometimes important, is dressed up 
and elaborated for public consumption. Under a some- 
what careless political agent, or one who has an excess 
of confidence in his subordinates, evils of all kinds de- 
velop like weeds in a wet summer. 

The government is modeled after the Arabic pattern. 
The local political agent in a protected port such as Bah- 
rein conceals his hand carefully and interferes in local 
affairs only on the rarest occasions. Nevertheless, if 
necessity arises, he is an absolute czar. The local sheikh 
has control over local affairs. To any ordinary eye his 
power and position are in no way different from those of 
an Arab sheikh anywhere. His revenues are untouched. 
Indeed, as the result of a little advice and supervision 
on the part of the political agent, they are usually greatly 
increased. The local judge, or kadi, who has jurisdic- 
tion in cases involving the religious law, is also much 
used, and in general local affairs are left alone unless 
some grave emergency compels a minimum of in- 
terference. 

In such a community foreigners are under the direct 
protection of the political agent, and their offenses are 
tried in court by him. Where a subject of the local 
sheikh is involved in a dispute with a foreign citizen, 
the court is a mixed one composed of representatives 
from each side. The system works well, and the func- 
tions of government as the Orient understands them 
are well performed. Public order is well preserved. 
For this work a local police force is organized and paid 
by the sheikh, but its organization and discipline usually 
receive some attention from the political agent. The 
poor are protected from the rapacity of the rich mod- 


THE BRITISH REGIME 183 


erately well. The freer hand the political agent has, 
the better this function is performed. Relations with 
outside tribes are well looked after, and it is unheard 
of for a tribe under British protection to be imposed 
upon by outsiders. 

The greatest defect of the system as far as lo- 
cal administration is concerned is the maintenance in 
office of incompetent sheikhs. Under the native Arab 
system such men are promptly disposed of, and what- 
ever his defects the ruler is likely to be the strong- 
est man available. When the power of the British 
is established, a treaty is concluded with the ruling 
sheikh and not infrequently the agreement extends to 
his son. Thus it happens that the power of the Brit- 
ish is sometimes used to maintain in office a man who 
is unfit for his task, and the resulting local administra- 
tion compares most unfavorably with the unmodified 
system of the desert. Both Bahrein and Muscat have 
been recently governed by sheikhs who were quite un- 
equal to their tasks. The British, having concluded 
treaties with them, adhered honorably to the spirit and 
letter of the agreement and thus prolonged a rule that 
every well wisher of the communities would have been 
glad to see terminated. 

The British political agent in Arabia is not simply 
anxious to preserve public order; he endeavors steadily 
to stimulate progress and develop the country. The trade 
of the district receives his first attention. Roads are 
cleared; oppressive customs barriers are modified; new 
lines of commerce are investigated. We had a political 
agent in Bahrein once who investigated the possibility 
of introducing additional varieties of game birds into 
the island. The economic foundations of life in Arabia 


184 THE ARAB AT HOME 


are very inadequate and the Englishman is undoubtedly 
right in putting his best attention and effort behind any 
enterprise that promises to broaden them. In Mesopo- 
tamia, as recounted in a previous chapter, such efforts 
have gone much further than elsewhere. Railroads have 
been built, harbor facilities installed and irrigation 
works begun. Mesopotamia offers a splendid field for 
this sort of effort, and under proper management it 
should develop into one of the richest areas of its size 
in the world. 

Next to the development of trade the British admin- 
istrator directs his attention toward sanitation and 
health. The coast districts are full of malaria and there 
is much to be done in the way of draining marsh lands 
and oiling the undrainable sites. Free medical service 
for the public is available at practically every port where 
a political officer is stationed. In Mesopotamia the gov- 
ernment’s efforts in this direction have been magnificent, 
and the civil hospitals in Basra and Baghdad do work 
that will compare favorably with anything we have at 
home. I have never seen finer X-Ray work in my life 
than that done by Dr. Norman in Baghdad. All over 
the Gulf, too, as in Mesopotamia, a careful quarantine 
system has been put into operation, and in spite of an 
almost complete lack of sympathy and cooperation on 
the part of the people, the incidence of plague has been 
reduced about seventy-five per cent and cholera has al- 
most disappeared. Where public opinion makes it pos- 
sible, modern education is introduced. Much progress 
has been made along this line in Mesopotamia. If there 
is sometimes a rather ludicrously large and impressive 
external showing upon an astonishingly meager foun- 
dation, it is to be remembered that we are dealing with 


THE BRITISH REGIME 185 


the Orient where the same is true of nearly everything. 
Furthermore this is the day of beginnings, and the man 
who demands perfection is simply stupid. Not only are 
there many government schools, but there has been a 
very generous policy of government assistance for any 
private schools that are willing to operate under govern- 
ment inspection and supervision. The best and most 
thorough work in the country has been done by mission 
schools aided in this way. 

Perhaps the finest evidence of the good intentions of 
the British rulers is in their steady effort to put a 
certain part of the local administration on to the Arab’s 
shoulders. The mixed courts, where cases are tried by 
the Arabs and the political agent sitting together, con- 
stitute a beginning. Later, as now in Bahrein, a munic- 
ipality is organized. A small tax is put upon each house, 
ranging (in our money) from six cents monthly on the 
poorest houses to two dollars on the houses of the rich. 
The foreign residents pay this tax as well as the Arabs, 
and the money secured serves to keep the place clean 
and gradually to improve the streets. Certain thorough- 
fares have been straightened and widened so that now 
an automobile can travel almost anywhere; an offensive 
drain from the sheikh’s castle to the sea has been cov- 
ered in and the city is so clean that it is scarcely recog- 
nizable. All this work is carried on by the Arabs them- 
selves with a minimum of English supervision. 

The introduction of British influence is thus an unques- 
tioned blessing as far as material development is con- 
cerned. Its eventual outcome, of course, no man can 
tell. It is perhaps safe to say that the system along the 
Gulf, where British supervision is confined to coast cities 
and is usually more a matter of advice and personal in- 


186 THE ARAB AT HOME 


fluence than of coercion, will finally be found to be a 
more valuable contribution than the detailed and efficient 
government of Mesopotamia. There is no doubt as to 
the benefits of British occupation. The question is 
whether an occupation that does not eventually 
commend itself to the rank and file of the people 
but remains instead permanently an alien affair, will be 
a benefit in the long run. To judge by the example 
of India, such an occupation will never be whole- 
heartedly accepted by the inhabitants. Inevitably the 
feeling against it grows as the nation advances. Edu- 
cation, which is so generously introduced, becomes the 
major factor in causing this increased hostility. The 
better educated the subject race becomes, the more de- 
termined it is to achieve self-government. Perhaps it is 
not too much to say that because of this fact British 
dominion is destined to disappear eventually, and cer- 
tainly nothing would do so much to make the present 
situation acceptable to the Arab as a frank and unqual- 
ified avowal of its temporary character. 


CHAP TE Rx 
GREAT EMPIRES OF ISLAM 


EW phenomena of modern times offer so fascinat- 
H ing and at the same time so puzzling a study as 

Mohammedanism. Its brilliant and kaleidoscopic 
political development has been the subject of books and 
treatises almost without number, for Mohammedanism 
burst on the world not as a religious movement simply 
but equally as a political development, and it resulted in 
the organization of one world empire after another. In 
the thirteen centuries of its history its growth has been 
astonishing. 

The religious temperament of the Arab was much the 
same before the days of Mohammed as it is now, and 
in those days Arabia presented the surprising phenom- 
enon of a Semitic people with the strongly religious 
mind that they have today following a loosely articu- 
lated system of polytheistic idolatry. It was inevitable 
that such a religion should give way to one better adapted 
to the needs of the people. Doubtless the unsatisfac- 
tory internal condition of Arabia politically and the dis- 
grace of being partly under foreign domination inten- 
sified the desire for a change, but the religious genius 
of the race does much to explain the tremendous reli- 
gious upheaval which came with the advent of Islam. 

Mohammed, the founder of the new religion, had come 
into contact with Judaism and Christianity, both Semitic 

187 


188 THE ARAB AT HOME 


in origin, and in common with many of the better men 
of his time had been greatly drawn to them. By nature 
Mohammed was a thoughtful man, and his first mar- 
riage to Khadijah made him well-to-do and gave him 
leisure to think. It is evident from the meager accounts 
which we have of him during this early period that he 
reflected much upon the unsatisfactory nature of the 
religion prevailing in Arabia and upon the vast superi- 
ority of other religions around him. 

These meditations crystallized out of Mohammed’s 
mind in a series of visions which, whatever their psy- 
chological nature, he undoubtedly believed to be revela- 
tions direct from God. Of the exact nature of these 
visitations we know little, and speculation regarding 
them has not been illuminating. Nevertheless we know 
the only important thing there is to be known about 
them. In them was born a religious system which was 
the best product of Mohammed’s mind, and much more 
than that—it was the crystallization of the mind of a race. 
It is no detraction to say that the essence of Mohammed’s 
greatness was that he expressed the best and most pow- 
erful thought of the Arab race. It was because his 
thinking and feeling were the thinking and feeling of 
a great race that he stands out as one of the great men 
of the world. 

In view of the power of the system that Mohammed 
introduced, nothing but academic interest attaches to any 
investigation of his sincerity. He must have been sin- 
cere in any legitimate definition of that term. He re- 
ceived what he believed to be a revelation from God. 
His harshest critic does not claim that he was ever un- 
faithful to that revelation. In his prosperous days when 
loot was brought in in quantities, it was not wasted in 


GREAT EMPIRES OF ISLAM 189 


personal display or indulgence. To the end of his life, 
Mohammed devoted himself wholly to the propagation 
of the great truth which he believed himself divinely 
commissioned to give to men. That in his relations to 
women he exceeded its provisions is unquestioned. 
That he promulgated fictitious visions at times to bridge 
over difficult emergencies is obvious. But it is equally 
certain that he never lost his devotion to the propaga- 
tion of his message. The character of the successors 
that Mohammed left behind him is evidence enough of 
his sincerity. Abu Bekr and Omar of themselves are 
sufficient to refute any idea of divided motives in Mo- 
hammed’s life. 

Unless we are prepared to assume something super- 
natural in Mohammed’s own nature or in his relation- 
ship to God, which the writer certainly is not, the only 
fair way to estimate Mohammed’s character and great- 
ness is by comparison with other great Orientals. To 
spend time and effort in a detailed exposition of how 
his character falls short of Christ’s reflects little credit 
upon our critical judgment as historians, and less still 
upon our knowledge and understanding of Christ. 
When we compare Mohammed with Alexander, whose 
dissipations killed him at thirty-three, with Persian mon- 
archs like Xerxes, who impoverished their kingdoms by 
the extravagances of a sensual court, with the Caesars 
of Rome degraded by their wholesale immoralities and 
cruelties, with Akbar and Jehangir and the other Mo- 
guls of India, we realize that the temptations of lust 
and greed and treachery left him surprisingly clean. 
Certainly Mohammed was one of the greatest men the 
world has ever seen. Not one of the military heroes that 
we honor approaches him in permanent influence. Prob- 


190 THE ARAB AT HOME 


ably not six men in the whole history of the world have 
made such a mark on it as he. 

Mohammed died in 632 a. D. in Medina. He had won 
some minor local military successes, and had succeeded 
in conquering Mecca. He had gained the allegiance of 
practically all the tribes of Arabia. But he accomplished 
something far more significant. He actually succeeded 
in instilling into the hearts of his followers his own faith 
in Mohammedanism as destined to rule the nations of 
the world and his own enthusiasm in forcing it upon 
them. He had even begun the organization of an ex- 
pedition against the Byzantine power in Syria before he 
died. 

Mohammed was succeeded by Abu Bekr, his father-in- 
law and one of his first converts. _Abu Bekr ruled only 
two years but in that time he made a contribution to the 
political development of Islam second only to that 
of Mohammed himself. His first year was spent in 
subduing the tribes of Arabia, which seized this oppor- 
tunity to assert their independence of Medina. Abu 
Bekr’s devotion to the hopes and ambitions of his dead 
master saved the situation. Expeditions against the 
Byzantines in Syria and against the Persians in Mesopo- 
tamia were sent out, and the restless energy of the Arabs 
was given an outlet in foreign campaigns. The stub- 
born rebels at home became fanatical warriors abroad. 

Abu Bekr died in 634 and was succeeded by Omar, 
who guided the tremendous energies of the awakened 
Arabs for the next ten years. From a military stand- 
point the history of this ten years reads like a page of 
fairy tales or a chapter from the “Thousand and One 
Nights.”’ Mesopotamia was taken from the Persians 
and Syria from the Byzantines. The complete subjuga- 


GREAT EMPIRES OF ISLAM 191 


tion of Persia was begun. The great military figure of 
these campaigns was Khalid, a leader who deserves per- 
haps to rank with Hannibal, Alexander, Caesar and 
Napoleon. But the most surprising feature of these times 
is the fact that Khalid was ably seconded by a host of 
generals whose success was only less than his own. 
Campaign after campaign was undertaken and no odds 
seemed so great as to prevent success. Initial failures 
were always submerged in later successes, and everywhere 
the armies of Omar were victorious. At his death, Mes- 
opotamia, Syria, Palestine, Assyria, Babylonia and the 
whole western half of Persia were completely conquered. 

The energies of the Arabs as released in this move- 
ment seemed limitless. Omar was not primarily con- 
cerned in extending the empire. Before his death he 
became anxious rather to limit its spread, fearing that 
any further additions of territory would be a weakness. 
Omar was a great administrator. He organized the con- 
quered territories on the basis of rugged justice. ‘‘By 
Allah,” he said, “he that is weakest among you shall be 
in my sight the strongest, until I have vindicated for him 
his rights, but him that is strongest will I treat as the 
weakest until he complies with the laws.” He intro- 
duced law and order into the rapidly growing and some- 
what anarchic empire. He never left Medina during the 
entire ten years of his reign except to visit Syria for the 
purpose of better organizing its affairs. He was a stern 
puritan, and many are the stories of the simplicity of life 
that he insisted upon, even when the head of the greatest 
empire in the world. 

Omar’s is the brightest name among the first four 
caliphs, the rulers of what we may term the first Arabian 
empire. He was, however, not a great enough man to 


bOZ THE ARAB AT HOME 


revise the system under which he worked, and his organi- 
zation of the empire was along the lines of orthodox 
Mohammedanism with all the hardship which that system 
visited upon conquered non-Mohammedan minorities. 
He paid the penalty of the system’s imperfections. A 
Kufan workman stabbed him in the mosque in Medina 
and he died in 644. 

Othman took his place, ruling twelve years, from 644 
to 656. Conquests abroad continued. The ruler of 
Syria, Moawiya, in particular was an able and vigorous 
deputy and carried on unceasingly the campaign against 
the Byzantines throughout Asia Minor. This energetic 
governor finally succeeded in persuading the Caliph to 
allow him to build and equip a Mohammedan fleet which 
was the beginning of Mohammedan sea power and a 
tremendously effective weapon in his hands. But at 
home in Medina disintegration set in. Othman was a 
weak ruler. He belonged to one of the aristocratic 
houses of Mecca, and more and more of the positions of 
power and preferment went to those of like connections. 
The other elements in Medina became gradually more 
disaffected. The leaders of the opposition were the re- 
maining companions of Mohammed, particularly Ali, 
Mohammed’s son-in-law. They greatly resented seeing 
the lucrative and influential positions of the empire given 
to families who had been among the Prophet’s bitter 
enemies in his early days and had only joined his 
standards after fortune had smiled upon him and it was 
easy and profitable to be one of his followers. The 
situation grew worse and worse. Abroad Othman’s 
armies were victorious everywhere. Egypt was con- 
quered. Moawiya’s campaigns in Asia Minor were con- 
sistently successful. The conquest of eastern Persia was 


GREAT EMPIRES OF ISLAM 193 


completed; Khorasan was taken. The armies of the 
Caliph reached the Oxus and the Indus on the east, and 
from Egypt they went on till they reached the Atlantic 
on the west. But no army had been retained to guard 
the Caliph at home, and malcontents coming in from the 
provinces, partisans of the disaffected in Medina, mur- 
dered the venerable Caliph, now eighty years old, in his 
own house. 

It is customary to reckon the caliphate as held by Ali, 
Mohammed’s son-in-law, from 656 to 661, but it would 
be more correct to reckon this five years as a period of 
confusion during which there was no caliph. Ali was 
chosen by the elements of the opposition in Medina as 
Othman’s successor and lived for five years after this 
election, but he never ruled the Mohammedan empire. 
Moawiya, the powerful governor of Syria, a cousin of 
the murdered Caliph, started for Medina with an army to 
punish the murderers. He offered to arbitrate the ques- 
tion of the succession with Ali, who agreed and then 
rejected the umpires’ decision in Moawiya’s favor. Alli’s 
willingness to submit the matter to umpires cost him the 
adherence of his religious following, and he was mur- 
dered in 661, leaving Moawiya the ruler of the empire. 

These circumstances gave rise to the division of the 
Mohammedan world into the Shiahs, or heretic partisans 
of Ali, and the Sunnis, or orthodox supporters of the 
caliphate, a division which has persisted to the present 
day. Followers of Ali insisted that the succession should 
be hereditary, descending first to Ali as Mohammed’s son- 
in-law and after that to his descendants. Upon the 
death of Ali they proclaimed his son Hasan caliph, but 
Hasan came to terms with Moawiya, and died later at 
Medina. Some years afterward, when Yazid, son of 


194 THE ARAB AT HOME 


Moawtya, succeeded to the caliphate, this opposition party 
rallied to the cause of Hosain, the second son of Ali, 
whom they put forward as caliph. He was killed and 
his small forces practically wiped out in a battle at Ker- 
bela in the month of Moharram, 680. In spite of the ap- 
parent failure of their cause the group later called Shiahs 
continued to believe that the first three caliphs, Abu Bekr, 
Omar, and Othman,-as also the Omayyad and Abbasid 
dynasties that followed, were usurpers and that the true 
imams or successors to Mohammed (the Shiahs reject 
the term caliph) were first Ali, then Hasan, then 
Hosain, and then their descendants. This doctrine of 
the wmam, or rightful ruler living in concealment, lent 
itself easily to the propagation of political rebellion. 
Throughout Mohammedan history, changes in political 
régime can frequently be traced to one or another of the 
Shiah sects. In this early period of their organization, 
however, the party which later came to be known as Shi- 
ahs submitted peacefully enough to the rule of Moawiya 
and his successors. 

Moawiya did not govern the empire from Arabia as 
had the early caliphs, but set up his capital at Damascus, 
where he had lived as governor of Syria. Thus ended 
the first empire of Mohammedanism, the first political 
child of this tremendous religious movement. In twenty- 
nine years it had spread from the peninsula of Arabia 
until its victorious armies were sweeping everything be- 
fore them from the Indus on the east to the Atlantic on 
the west. The whole of Asia Minor was being con- 
quered. Syria and Mesopotamia, Egypt and Persia had 
been thoroughly incorporated into the empire. 

The peninsula of Arabia, with its capital, Medina, now 
became a mere province in the great empire and a negli- 


GREAT EMPIRES OF ISLAM 195 


gible province at that. The new Caliph was a member of 
the Arab house of Omayya, whence the name of his dy- 
nasty as the Omayyad dynasty. He was a man of ex- 
traordinary energy and ability, and the dynasty that he 
founded lasted from 661 to 750, just under a hundred 
years. In this period the Mohammedan empire reached 
its greatest glory. Nothing that followed compared with 
this, the second Arabian empire. The dynasty was an 
Arab dynasty, and Syria, the seat of power in the empire, 
was racially as truly Arabic as the peninsula itself. 

The great names of this hundred years are first that of 
Moawiya, the founder of the dynasty, who ruled from 
661 to 680, Abdalmalik, who ruled from 685 to 705, 
Walid, who was caliph from 705 to 714, and Hisham, 
who ruled from 724 to 743. The finest qualities of the 
Arabs were shown in this caliphate. There was no coer- 
cion of the Christian minorities; they were merely taxed 
more heavily than the Moslems, the latter in theory paying 
no land tax at all. At one time the conversion of Chris- 
tians to Mohammedanism was actually opposed because 
of the lessened public revenues that resulted. This in- 
equality of taxation beween non-Moslem and Moslem and 
between Arabic and non-Arabic Moslems was one of the 
gravest weaknesses of the Omayyad Caliphate. The 
Arab is a splendid ruler, but he is peculiarly incapable of 
analyzing the system he works under, and so it was not 
until 740, after fatal damage had been done, that the Gov- 
ernor of Khorasan made land taxes equal for all land- 
holders. If that change had come fifty years sooner, the 
Omayyad empire might have lasted centuries longer. 

Perhaps nothing illustrates better the character of the 
Omayyads than the succession of governors who ruled 
Mesopotamia. Moawiya sent as governor Ziyad, a man 


196 THE ARAB AT HOME 


who had previously been a faithful partisan of Ali in re- 
bellion against him. It took a long time to win Ziyad 
but eventually he became one of the strongest of Moa- 
wiya’s lieutenants. A puritan in his religious devotion, 
he ruled Mesopotamia with the greatest vigor, and under 
him there was prosperity and justice and public order 
such as opened up a new epoch in that province. Ziyad 
died in 673 and Mesopotamia lapsed again into its old 
condition of chaos. Mesopotamia was the richest prov- 
ince of the whole empire and the source of its major rev- 
enues. It was also the seat of continual intrigue and 
unrest, for in Kufa and Basra and Kerbela were to be 
found descendants of the Prophet who considered that 
the caliphate should have descended to them. There 
were also descendants of the companions of Mohammed 
who had similar ambitions. Ibn Zobair was one of this 
latter class. He proclaimed himself caliph and it re- 
quired many years’ fighting to subdue him. The Caliph, 
Abdalmalik, finally entrusted this task to a man called 
Hajjaj bin Yusuf, and the task was so well performed 
that Hajjaj was presented with the governorship of the 
whole province of Mesopotamia, which gained thereby a 
governor whose abilities made him one of the outstanding 
men of the entire period. 

Hajjaj was never caliph. He aspired apparently to 
nothing more than the governorship of the great province 
that had been entrusted to him. Nevertheless his is a 
greater name than that of most of the caliphs. Entering 
the hostile city of Kufa, then the capital of Mesopotamia, 
he ascended the pulpit of the great mosque on Friday 
noon in the place of the preacher of the day. He in- 
formed the seditious mob of hundreds that he was the 
new governor and that any man disloyally remaining at 


GREAT EMPIRES OF ISLAM 197 


home instead of supporting the Caliph’s armies in the 
field would be beheaded. Single-handed he overawed the 
hostile crowd and all opposition ceased. Hajjaj was.an 
illustration of the Arab’s capacity for loyalty. He must 
have been much the sort of man that Ibn Jelouee of Hasa 
is today. Under his powerful administration offenders 
were dealt with in ways of unexampled ferocity. Laws 
were justly administered. The irrigation system of 
Mesopotamia was put in order. Lands were drained. 
The province under his governorship was prosperous and 
orderly. Hajjaj died in 714 and later one of his lieuten- 
ants, Khalid el Qasri, ruled Mesopotamia for fifteen 
years in much the same manner. 

Through these provincial governors we are able to gain 
a valuable sidelight on the character of the Damascus Cal- 
iphate. None of the Omayyad Caliphs built himself a 
castle to live in. They remained, after elevation to the 
supreme office, still residing in their original villa. There 
was no development of court etiquette and cringing sub- 
servience. None of these Arab caliphs desired courtiers 
to kiss their feet and all, as the record shows, gave great 
attention to the selection of able subordinates. The 
court of these men was the court of simple and sometimes 
of austere Mohammedanism. ‘Toward the end of the 
dynasty the morals and manners became somewhat more 
lax, but to the last they compared most favorably with 
those of Medina and were incomparably better than 
characterized the court that was later to rise in Baghdad. 

Throughout this hundred years the conquests of Mo- 
hammedanism were constantly extended. The whole of 
North Africa was consolidated under Mohammedan 
rule. Spain was conquered, and the victorious march of 
the Caliph’s armies into Europe was checked only on the 


198 THE ARAB AT HOME 


field of Tours in 732 when Hisham was caliph. There 
was unceasing warfare in Asia Minor, Armenia and 
Azerbaijan, and with the conquest of those countries 
most of that part of the, world became Mohammedan. 
Nothing illustrates better the extraordinary energy that 
animated the Arabs throughout this dynasty than these 
tremendous campaigns. Under Moawiya, between 672 
and 679 the capture of Constantinople was attempted 
every year. Later in 717, under Suleiman, one of the 
lesser Omayyad Caliphs, there was another tremendous 
effort to take the city. But probably the most success- 
ful of all the armies of the dynasty were those sent 
out by Hajjaj, the governor of Mesopotamia. MHajjaj 
learned the value of careful attention to equipment, and 
largely on this account his armies conquered Samarkand 
and Kabul and even Kashgar on the boundaries of 
China. The Makran coast was conquered, the Indus 
was passed and the whole of Sind fell into the Caliph’s 
hands. The Indian king, Daher, ruler of Sind, was 
thoroughly beaten. 

But with all its strength, before it was a hundred 
years old the dynasty had gone down. It was not 
because the ruling house was worn out, for the last 
ruler, Merwan II, was cast in the mold of Moawiya 
and Walid, but he battled against hopeless odds 
and subdued tremendous rebellions in Mesopotamia and 
Syria only to be overthrown himself by a greater rebel- 
lion in Khorasan, the eastern part of Persia. The dy- 
nasty was undermined and finally overthrown by un- 
ceasing propaganda carried on by the partisans of Ali, the 
Shiahs. Missionaries of this sect had spread over 
the whole empire, and their universal success in gaining 
the ear of the common people is an index of the mis- 


GREAT EMPIRES OF ISLAM 199 


rule and oppression that had crept into the Omayyad 
empire. Officials were corrupt, taxes were high and in- 
equitably distributed. The people were greatly dissatis- 
fied. The empire had grown to enormous proportions, 
and the distinctions made between Mohammedans of dif- 
ferent origins rankled in the breasts of devotees who felt 
instinctively the democracy of the religious system which 
all Mohammedans alike professed. 

The undermining and overthrow of the Omayyads 
were the work of Shiah agitators who supposed a man 
of their own choice, a descendant of Mohammed, would 
sit upon the throne. They were doomed to disappoint- 
ment. Abul Abbas, a man who had no connection with 
the sacred line, with incredible adroitness seized the 
fruit of the Shiah labors. The new caliphate took its 
name from the founder and is known as the Abbasid 
dynasty. At first heretical in its religious views in or- 
der to hold the support of the Shiahs, the ruling house 
soon found it more profitable to return to the orthodox 
faith. Persian Shiah missionaries had caused the down- 
fall of the Omayyads; it was a Persian from Khorasan 
who seized the throne, and a Persian empire that was 
thus set up. The new dynasty ruled from 750 to 1258, 
and for nearly all of this period its capital was in Bagh- 
dad. The history of this caliphate is a weary record 
of intrigue and assassination, immorality and hypocrisy, 
the typical annals, indeed, of an oriental court. Not a 
caliph in the entire five hundred years compares with 
the great names of the Arabian empire of the Omayyads. 
The brilliant names are those of the grand viziers, par- 
ticularly the family of the Barmecides, who conducted 
the affairs of the huge unwieldly empire in the days of 
Mansur, Harun el Rashid and Mamun, the golden days 


200 THE ARAB AT HOME 


of Mohammedan learning and philosophy. Poets never 
weary of praising the extraordinary sagacity, benevo- 
lence and justice that characterized the rule of these men. 

But the empire soon weakened. Its period of strength 
was hardly longer than that of its predecessors and only 
the absence of powerful foes enabled it to drag out a 
painful existence for four hundred years longer, then 
to perish miserably before the attack of the Mongol 
hordes from Central Asia. During this period the enor- 
mous empire gradually broke up into smaller fragments. 
Africa became more or less independent under the 
Aghlabites, who ruled first as vassals of the Baghdad 
Caliphs. Egypt became the seat of an independent and 
at times competing caliphate of the Shiah faith, that of 
the Fatimites. A sect closely allied with the Fatimites, 
the Carmathians, with headquarters at Katif, swept over 
Arabia in the tenth century. Their excesses were ex- 
treme. Twenty thousand pilgrims on their way to 
Mecca were massacred at once. Mecca itself was 
taken, and the Black Stone removed to Lahsa, or 
Hasa, in the eastern part of Arabia, then the resi- 
dence of the Carmathian princes, where it remained for 
ten years. The Carmathians nearly wrecked the totter- 
ing caliphate and were only subdued by the utmost 
efforts. A little before their appearance a rebellion of 
negro slaves in Basra had taxed the slender resources 
of the caliphate for fourteen years before it was finally 
suppressed. This incredibly weak and corrupt pretense 
of a government was finally wiped out by the Mongols 
in 1258 when they captured Baghdad and laid waste the 
whole of Mesopotamia. The successor of the Abbasid 
Caliphs fled to Egypt, where he resided as a purely spir- 
itual prince until the early part of the sixteenth century 


GREAT EMPIRES OF ISLAM 201 


when his functions were assumed by the Sultan of 
Turkey. 

The third world empire produced by Mohammedan- 
ism is the Turkish, which may be considered as begin- 
ning in the early part of the thirteen hundreds and con- 
tinuing to the present. It was a race of tremendous 
power that thus emerged from obscurity, and for a pe- 
riod of two hundred years, terminating in 1566 with 
the death of Suleiman the Magnificent, Turkey was the 
most powerful nation in the world. In the days of 
the Omayyad and Baghdad caliphs the Mohammedan 
campaign for the possession of Constantinople had been 
carried on intermittently, notably by Moawiya, Suleiman 
and Harun el Rashid. But it remained for the Turks 
actually to capture the city and turn it into a Moham- 
medan stronghold. It fell in 1453. Egypt was taken 
from the Mameluke Sultans in 1517, and the caliphate 
thus officially passed to the Ottoman Sultans. The 
whole Balkan Peninsula became Mohammedan. Both 
Belgrade and Budapest were conquered, and twice in the 
history of Turkey Vienna itself was besieged. 

After the days of Suleiman the Magnificent, however, 
Turkish history is a wearisome story of oppression and 
profligacy and degeneration. A piece at a time, the em- 
pire was dismembered by more powerful neighbors. 
Turkey resembles the Baghdad Caliphate in this, that 
she now drags out a painful and corrupt existence, wait- 
ing for some powerful enemy to put an end to her 
wretched career. 

These four political states have been especially men- 
tioned because they are the lineal descendants of the 
government of Mohammed himself, but besides these 
there is an almost unlimited number of empires great and 


202 THE ARAB AT HOME 


small whose development is a part of the history of Mo- 
hammedanism. The Mogul empire of India is perhaps 
the greatest of these. The Omayyad dynasty in Spain ts 
another, as also the Carmathian kingdom in Arabia men- 
tioned above, and the present state of Afghanistan. The 
list could be extended almost indefinitely. Their his- 
tories are so similar that a single *thart could be plotted 
of their development, just as a physician charts the prog- 
ress of a patient. All begin with a tremendous outburst 
of energy, which manifests itself principally in the spread 
of religion by military conquest but also to no small 
extent in the progress of civilization and culture. In 
each this period is a short one. In the first Arab state 
that period of tremendous energy and splendid political - 
and intellectual growth lasted less than twenty-five 
years. In the great Arab empire of the Omayyads it 
lasted nearly a hundred, in the Persian empire whose 
capital was at Baghdad, possibly a hundred and fifty, 
and in the Turkish empire about three hundred years. 
In all cases this short hectic period of energetic progress 
was followed by an unrelieved night of stagnation and © 
corruption, of utter decay of all the institutions of so- 
ciety and the gradual disappearance of every advanced 
element from the existing civilization. 

It is not commonly realized how very short these pe- 
riods of progress were. Mohammed and the first four 
caliphs united Arabia, gave it a world vision and laid 
the foundations of a world empire. Medina, the capital, 
_ was the most active center of political and military en- 
ergy in the world for twenty-five years. Then the polit- 
ical structure in Medina collapsed; the seat of power was 
transferred to Damascus, and fifty years later practically 
every vestige of the unity and power of Arabia under 


GREAT EMPIRES OF ISLAM 203 


Mohammed and his successors had disappeared and 
Arabia had reverted to her original chaos. Even the 
military energy of the peninsular Arabs had largely dis- 
appeared, and the Omayyads carried on their campaigns 
by means of armies which came from Damascus and 
Mesopotamia. When the seat of power was transferred 
from Damascus to Baghdad, the armies of the Caliph 
were made up of men from Khorasan, and later it was 
the Turks who conquered Constantinople and a consid- 
erable section of Europe. Now Baghdad and Damascus 
contain no reminder of their former glories. They are 
simply two poverty- and dirt-cursed cities of the prov- 
inces of the late Turkish empire. Their only hope is 
some stimulus that may be brought in from outside. 

The student turns from the study of the political his- 
tory of Mohammedanism with a feeling of dissatisfac- 
tion and disappointment. He feels that in studying the 
history of the various empires which Mohammedanism 
has produced, he has been dealing with the surface of 
things, viewing merely the eddies thrown up by a tremen- 
dous current underneath, the current of the religion of 
Mohammed. He concludes that Mohammed with his 
visions is a more important world figure than all the 
caliphs of Medina, Damascus and Baghdad, the Moguls 
of India and the sultans of Turkey. 

We will never understand this kaleidoscopic political 
history until we realize that Mohammedanism consists 
essentially of an exceedingly strong religion closely 
bound up with an incredibly weak and hopeless political . 
system. Thus the spread of the religion of Mohammed 
was in no way interfered with by the collapse of the 
government at Medina nor with the later collapse in 
Damascus and Baghdad.- It has not even been disturbed 


204 THE ARAB AT HOME 


by the hopeless record of Turkish inefficiency and weak- 
ness during the past four hundred years. The collapse of 
a political state never has weakened the hold of Moham- 
medanism on its people religiously. Political fortunes 
may come and go; the religion of Mohammed continues 
to spread. It is spreading today, when the whole Mo- 
hammedan world is under the actual or potential control 
of Christian nations. Indeed we may go further than 
that. If it is true that Mohammedanism is a mixture 
of a powerful religious system and a weak political sys- 
tem, we shall probably discover that the removal of its 
political elements by the suzerainty of alien Powers, far 
from being a hindrance, will eventually prove to be the 
painful amputation of a serious handicap and will greatly 
increase its potency as a religious system. 


CHAR TE RT 


THE MOHAMMEDAN FAITH 


OHAMMEDANISM is fortunate in possess- 
M ing a creed that in four words epitomizes its 

whole system. “La illah illa allah (There is 
no God but God).”” The whole of Mohammed’s visions 
are contained in that little creed, the shortest and most 
powerful creed in the world. The complete creed adds 
“wa Muhammad rasul allahi (and Mohammed is the 
apostle of God).’”’ No Mohammedan will admit that the 
first part of the creed can be accepted and the last re- 
jected, but it is the first part that is the important part and 
the one that is continually in their mouths. Those four 
words contain the whole Semitic conception of God 
sharpened and intensified till it dominates the minds of 
fishermen, nomads and sailors, merchants and land-_ 
owners and sheikhs. No small part of the great strength 
of Mohammedanism is to be found in this creed, at once 
so simple that a five year old child can understand it 
and so profound that the theologian after a lifetime of 
study has not exhausted it. “There is no God but God” 
is a chant by which laborers build a wall. It is a war 
song by which soldiers march to war. Mothers sing 
their sick babies to sleep with it as a lullaby, and strong 
men when they come to die desperately summon their 
failing faculties and repeating this creed as one last ex- 


pression of their faith, dismiss their spirits to meet their 
205 


206 THE ARAB AT. HOME 


Maker. It is largely by means of this creed that the 
Semitic conception of God, the God of Mohammed, the 
God of the Koran, has come to be the very foundation 
of the mental and spiritual life of the blind beggar on 
the streets of Baghdad, of the howling dervish in Con- 
stantinople, of the Indian Mohammedan who is a grad- 
uate of Oxford and the Wahabi chief who beats of- 
fenders in the oases of Arabia. 

At first sight the Westerner does not at all compre- 
hend the depth and extent of this conception. ‘There 
is no God but God.” It means that into this universe 
no causation enters except God. We have rain today 
because God sent the rain, and tomorrow we will have 
sunshine because He sends the sunshine. There are no 
secondary causes. Traveling across the Syrian desert, 
I pointed out a low hill in the distance apparently di- 
rectly in our line of march and asked the pious camel- 
man how long it would take to reach it. 

“God knows,” was his brief reply. 

“Yes, certainly,’ I replied, “but how long will it take 
to get there?’ 

“The journey is in the hands of God,” was his pious 
but somewhat unsatisfactory answer. 

“T have no intention of denying that,’ I insisted, 
“but how long do you think it will take us to get there?” 

“Don’t talk this way,” expostulated the man. “Who 
knows whether we will ever get there? If God ordains, 
we will all die before we get that far. The future is 
in God’s hands, and it is infidelity to attempt to pene- 
trate it in this way. There is no God but God.” 

During the war I frequently listened to comments on 
current events by Mohammed Effendi, the treasurer of 
Hasa, a pious Moslem whose religious sincerity and hon- 


THE MOHAMMEDAN FAITH 207 


est kindness are well known all over Arabia. ‘‘God,” 
said Mohammed Effendi, “is punishing the nations. 
They have piled up their wickedness like mountains and 
God is punishing them. All are alike in this, the Chris- 
tian nations and the Mohammedan nations. There will 
be no peace until He considers their punishment suffi- 
cient.””’ A visitor may sit in the reception room of Ibn 
Saoud, the greatest figure in present-day Arabia, and see 
signs of the same conception of our present world. ‘God 
has given me Arabia to rule over,” says the Great Chief 
cheerfully, and there will follow narratives of how God 
delivered into his hand one tribe after another until now 
a large part of the peninsula recognizes his authority. 
Hamid, a cook in Bahrein who had served many years 
as a Turkish soldier, once stole some thousands of 
Medjidies, or Turkish dollars, from the army paymaster 
and left that region as rapidly as he could. But God, 
according to Hamid, did not open for him a way of 
escape. He was captured with the plunder upon him, 
and the results of the escapade were long and painful. 

A notable effect of this picture of God that forms the 
substance of the Arab’s religious thinking, is his keen 
sense of the importance and reality of the next world. 
In it the injustices and oppressions of this world are to 
be rectified, the good are to be rewarded and the bad 
punished. The punishment of infidels is eternal, but 
every man who has accepted the Mohammedan creed, 
who has confessed that “There is no God but God, 
and Mohammed is the apostle of God,” will eventually 
dwell in Paradise. His sins may require expiation in 
purgatorial fires, but he himself will eventually enjoy 
eternal felicity. 

This felicity, as the Koran describes it, consists of 


208 THE ARAB AT HOME 


a succession of physical pleasures, rest and shade and 
flowing streams of cool water, delicious food and drinks, 
perfumes, delightful breezes, and beautiful maidens with- 
out number. It is the most attractive picture that the 
desert Arab is capable of imagining, and consists simply 
of a magnification of the pleasures of this world, both 
the good ones and the bad ones. Hope for this eternal 
felicity fills a much more important place in the Arab’s 
mind than in ours. The extraordinary bravery of the 
Arab fighter finds a large part of its explanation in this 
hope. The one way to gain a triumphant entrance into 
Paradise is to die a martyr on the field of battle, fight- 
ing in the cause of God. The Arab who remains alive 
looks with envy on the fallen bodies of his friends and 
sighs as he pictures the bliss that they are enjoying, re- 
gretting keenly his own unfortunate lot in comparison. 

The Arab is reckoned a fatalist and theoretically this 
statement is true. More, however, has been made of 
it than the facts warrant. His philosophy of religion 
does not compel an extreme fatalistic attitude any more 
than does any system which emphasizes the sovereignty 
of God. In ordinary contact with the Arab it is im- 
possible to discover that his. mind runs in an especially 
fatalistic groove. His energy in driving a sharp bar- 
gain in the cities and his faithfulness in caring for his 
sheep in the desert are certainly not affected by it. The 
pearl divers dive from early in the morning till late at 
night in as exhausting and health-destroying work as 
could easily be found, and no trace of any fatalistic lessen- 
ing of effort is to be seen. The so-called fatalism of the 
Arab is really little more than a keen sense of God’s sov- ‘ 
ereignty and of man’s dependence. In time of misfortune 
it prevents despair and remorse and useless regrets over 


THE MOHAMMEDAN FAITH 209 


the past and is a most valuable element in Arab character. 
The tremendous courage that the Arab fighter shows is 
not due to any conviction that some will die no matter 
what happens. It is due to the fact that all want to die. 
It is the picture of the bliss of the world to come that 
is the foundation of that limitless bravery, not any hope- 
less resignation to an inescapable fate. The fatalism of 
the Arab, at least of the orthodox Arabs in inland 
Arabia, is not due, either, to any conviction that at some 
remote time in the past God wrote out the future course 
of every man to the minutest detail. It is rather the 
conviction that God in His omnipotence is working in the 
present by the immediate exercise of His will. As an 
academic proposition it is no doubt true that God knew 
from the first just what He was going to do, and to 
that extent it was predestined, but the mind of the every- 
day Arab does not actually dwell on that aspect of it. 
It is God acting and governing in the present that he 
thinks about. 

The Arab is a credulous individual, as any one may 
discover by reading the “Thousand and One Nights,” 
the one popular novel of Arabia. The Koran constantly 
speaks of jimn, a mythical order of beings with powers 
that are superhuman and sub-divine. Thus an orthodox 
foundation is always at hand for the erection of a com- 
plete system of superstition. But in spite of his cre- 
dulity and in spite of the teaching of the Koran regard- 
ing jinn, there is little superstition in the daily thought 
of the Arab. The women are somewhat more super- 
stitious, but the great and overpowering conception of 
God has largely driven superstition from the minds of 
the men. I have traveled with them across the empty 
desert at night. We have plunged together into water- 


210 THE ARAB AT HOME 


less wastes where death would be the penalty for failure to 
reach the next well, then three days away. On such 
trips I have never heard a wish for good luck nor the 
hope that ghosts or spirits or spooks of any sort would 
let us alone. No one is afraid of a black cat or of 
unlucky days, nor has he a rabbit’s foot in his pocket. 
We start out with the name of God on our lips and the 
thought of God in our hearts. There is no God but 
God, and in such a world there is little room for 
superstition. 

The Arab learns with great surprise that in the West 
many men by their own statement have no religion. 
Such a state of mind he cannot understand. A man may 
hold to a false religion—that is a comprehensible atti- 
tude—but to be without a religion argues a lapse of 
mentality. Presumably in every community there are 
a certain number of men who make religion the first 
thing in their lives. It would probably be safe to gen- 
eralize and say that the East has a much larger percent- 
age of such individuals than the West. Their religion 
may be mechanical and formal, but it is the center of 
their lives and everything else revolves around it. The 
missionary from Arabia will hazard the statement that 
in no country in the world can so large a percentage 
be found to center their lives religiously as in Arabia. 

To the Arab religion is all-inclusive, not simply in 
that God’s will underlies every one of the day’s events, 
but also in that it absorbs all the activities and aspirations 
of the mind. The search for truth and devotion to it 
are the glory of the western mind. The only search 
for truth that the Arab knows is the effort to understand 
God. The boys who desire to carry their studies beyond 
the village school enter the study of theology. Small 


THE MOHAMMEDAN FAITH 241 


schools of these first grade theologians may be found 
in many places and such courses of study may be 
carried on almost indefinitely. The leading judge of 
Katif spent twenty years in his theological studies before 
assuming the duties of his present office. Men of this 
type have worked out the sequence of question and an- 
swer of practically every possible discussion relating to 
their religion. ‘‘No,” said the judge of Katif gravely 
as a friend started a religious discussion with me by 
asking a certain question, “do not begin that way. It 
will not come out the way you wish. Let me ask him 
the first question.” 

The Arab’s theology illustrates well his straightfor- 
ward, almost mechanical mind. Hasan el Ashari was a 
redoubtable leader of the hosts of orthodoxy in the tenth 
century, but early in his life he had been a rationalist 
and studied for a long time in the rationalist schools. 
One day he propounded a question to his teacher. A 
man raised a family of three sons. One grew up to be 
a reprobate of the reprobates, guilty of innumerable sins, 
a man hopelessly bad in every way. The second grew 
up to be a model of piety, and the third died in infancy. 
What was their fate? 

“Certainly,” replied the teacher, “the first went to 
Hell, and the second enjoyed the pleasure of Paradise.” 

“And the third?” persisted Hasan. 

“The third,” said the teacher, “was doubtless admitted 
to Paradise, but to one of its lower grades, not to the 
degree of bliss enjoyed by his good brother.” 

“Then,” said Hasan, “he will have a just complaint 
against God, for he will say, ‘If He had permitted me 
to live, I might have grown up and inherited a degree 
of bliss equal to my fortunate brother.’ ”’ 


AL2 THE ARAB AT HOME 


9 


“God will reply,” said the teacher, “that had he grown 
up he would have become like his wicked brother, and 
he should rather be thankful that God’s mercy and pre- 
vision had saved him from Hell.” 

“In that case,’’ replied Hasan, “the eldest will present 
his complaint that if he had been allowed to die young, 
he might have secured a place in Paradise like his infant 
brother and been spared the pains of Hell.” 

Whereupon, so the story goes, the teacher cursed 
Hasan as an infidel, and Hasan being convinced that 
reason is unable to answer the questions of theology, 
became a firm believer in the absolute authority of the 
Koran. 

Theology is the Arab’s only truth, and one might al- 
most say that religious literature and ritual constitute 
his only beauty. Certain elements of appreciation of 
beauty appear in the relationships between men and 
women, mixed with much that is the reverse of beautiful. 
Aside from these, nearly all that we of the West know 
of the love of beauty and the desire to find and develop 
and appreciate it the Arab finds in religion. The land- 
scape and the sunset are nothing to him. He sees beauty 
in the fine literature of the Koran and in the straight 
lines and utter simplicity of his mosque. 

Some years ago in Kuwait I attended the opening 
ceremonies of a large school of about five hundred boys. 
The exercises were of a religious character, and I have 
never heard anything equal to the musical cadences of 
some selections from the Koran which were intoned by 
the dean of the new school as the main feature of the 
program. No one who has listened to them can forget the 
beauty of prayers in the desert, where the men standing 
in orderly lines follow a leader who intones the prayer. 


THE MOHAMMEDAN FAITH at3 


Doubtless the exceptional Arab may find satisfaction for 
his thirst after beauty in literature and particularly in 
poetry. There may be a few who learn by travel and 
foreign education to see beauty in landscape and flowers, 
but for nine out of ten of the Arabs to whom literature 
is a closed book and the beauties of nature unexplored 
mysteries, religion offers the only possible gratification 
for the love of beauty that is inherent in us all. 

Religion, then, includes every event of life, for each 
event is due directly to God’s will and agency. It covers 
all the higher exercises of the mind and is almost the 
only field of mental activity. Religion also embraces all 
the finer human relationships. The Arab knows no 
patriotism as such. The sentiments that we associate 
with that conception he brings to the service of a reli- 
gion that has created for him the only fatherland he 
knows. He is the greatest internationalist in the world, 
for this religious fatherland includes all races and na- 
tions in its hopes and ambitions and very many of them 
in its present development. 

The Arab mind thus tends toward a curious approx- 
imation to pantheism. William Gifford Palgrave, whose 
famous account of his travels in Arabia, published in 
1865, was one of the first authorities on Arab life, called 
it the “pantheism of force.’ Every article and every 
event in man’s external environment is the expression 
of the will of God, a will not expressed in the past once 
for all, but active in the present. The higher faculties 
of the Arab mind find their only exercise in an effort 
to understand and appreciate the greatness and majesty 
of God, and every aspiration in the realm of human as- 
sociation is directed toward the service of a great inter- 
national religious fatherland. Nevertheless, no race is 


214 THE ARAB AT HOME 


farther from the spirit and beliefs of genuine pantheism. 
God dominates the external world, but He 1s always sep- 
arate from it. He bends and coerces the human spirit, 
but He is never identified with it. No grain of dust is 
blown about by the wind except by the express will of 
God, no baby so much as smiles at its mother except as 
God orders and directs the smile. Nevertheless, with God 
Himself there is no commerce either of mind or heart. 
Men pray and their prayers are the sincere cries of ear- 
nest hearts. God in His inscrutable isolation and in His 
terrible omnipotence hears. He rewards and punishes, 
but He never replies. Into the heart of God perhaps 
man enters, who knows? But into the heart of man 
God does not enter. God rules the world and directs 
its smallest detail, but He Himself is as inaccessible as 
the stars. 

The corollary to this conception of God is the Arab 
conception of men,—first their insignificance and help- 
lessness and secondly their equality. Standing before the 
great, omnipotent and inscrutable God, men are on one 
level absolutely. This conviction of men’s essential 
equality runs through the whole Arab system of society 
and government. It has an impregnable strength, for at 
the bottom it is a religious conviction. Men are equal 
and are bound together by the obligations of mutual 
helpfulness. Upon this fundamental element in his 
religious convictions the Arab has built his whole so- 
cial structure. To be sure, this conviction is far from 
being a complete belief in the democratic equality of 
all men. It is an equality and brotherhood of be- 
lievers. Outsiders are infidels and outcasts with no 
rights at all. They and their possessions are the legit- 
imate prey of every believer. Discounted to the utmost, 


THE MOHAMMEDAN FAITH 215 


however, one of the most outstanding testimonies to 
the strength of the Mohammedan conception of God is 
the fact that it has succeeded in making this tremendous 
conviction of human equality a part of the consciousness 
of the meanest citizen of the great empire of Mohammed. 
Every man, no matter what his origin or present condi- 
tion, is equal in God’s sight to every other man. There 
are no distinctions of station or wealth or anything else. 
What is more significant, no class is religiously better 
than the rest. Every believer faces God on the same 
basis as every other believer. Mohammedanism has no 
pastors, still less has it any place for a priest. Every 
man deals directly with his Creator on the simple basis 
of his humanity. 

The visions of Mohammed which constitute the basis 
of these conceptions of God and man have been recorded 
and transmitted with the greatest care. They form a 
book called the Koran, which is the sacred book of Mo- 
hammedanism. This book, about the length of our New 
Testament, is reverenced as the most wonderful of God’s 
creations, inspired to the last cross of a “‘t” and dot of 
an “1.” The usual Mohammedan idea of inspiration 
is of the most extreme and mechanical type. God dic- 
tated every word to Mohammed and is responsible for 
every syllable and every letter. God’s revelation of the 
Koran to Mohammed marked the beginning of the 
greatest epoch in the history of the universe. 

Although written during the Prophet’s lifetime, the 
revelations of the Koran were not collected into a single 
book until during the rule of Abu Bekr shortly after 
Mohammed’s death. This work of collection was due to 
Omar, who became alarmed over the fact that many 
individual possessors of suras, or chapters, of the reve- 


216 THE ARAB AT HOME 


lation were being killed in battle. From the remaining 
companions of Mohammed he had all the available evi- 
dence as to the correct text collected and in this way 
established a standard version. Later, during the rule 
of Othman, it was discovered that variant readings were 
creeping into the Koran, and the Caliph therefore or- 
dered every book destroyed that differed from this stand- 
ard. The text thus established has persisted without a 
single variation, as far as is known, for thirteen hundred 
years to this day, certainly an achievement in faithful- 
ness and accuracy nothing short of phenomenal. Un- 
doubtedly it is this careful preservation of the Koran 
and great devotion to it that have kept the stream of 
Mohammedanism so constant through the centuries. 

To a western mind the Koran lacks all unity and co- 
hesion, and is tiresome and futile. The Westerner 
reading it is likely to conclude that it is a useless, unor- 
ganized and unintelligible mass of words. Nothing 
could be further from the truth or a better example of 
the difference between the eastern and the western 
mind. The Koran is the spiritual guide of two hun- 
dred and fifty million people. To them it is a divine 
book. Its influence would seem to work against great 
handicaps, for it was long regarded by some Moslems as 
irreverent to translate it, and even in those countries 
where Arabic is spoken, the percentage of literacy is not 
high. These difficulties were overcome, however, by 
interlinear translations, and in addition ordinary trans- 
lations of the Koran are now available in Persian, Hin- 
dustani, Chinese and presumably in many other lan- 
guages. There are several excellent translations into 
English. The illiterate in every Mohammedan com- 
munity have large opportunity to listen to the reading 


THE MOHAMMEDAN FAITH 217 


of the Koran. Every pious Mohammedan who can read 
is supposed to read it through during the fast month 
of Ramadhan, and it is divided into thirty chapters for 
that purpose. Frequently the rich will arrange to have 
the entire Koran read through in their houses every 
night of Ramadhan. For this purpose three readers 
are engaged, and each reads aloud a third of the book. 
These professional readers are sometimes blind, but hav- 
ing committed the entire book to memory, they recite it 
instead, a method which is equally satisfactory. 

The nomad Bedouin and the date cultivator, the fisher- 
man and the pearl diver, the artisan and the day laborer 
are alike in this, that they gain the underlying founda- 
tion of their religion from this remarkable book. Every 
Friday they hear a sermon based on some verse from 
it. Every one of them who can read has studied the 
entire book carefully. The boy in Arabia who learns to 
read at all learns to read the Koran, for there is no other 
elementary textbook. Thus the visions that came to 
Mohammed thirteen centuries ago are not merely pre- 
served; they are stamped on the hearts of the common 
people, and any one who makes himself acquainted with 
the contents of that book is astonished to see how com- 
plete is the correspondence between it and the mind of 
the everyday Mohammedan. 

To the Koran is added a mass of traditions Abani 
Mohammed which are second only to the sacred book 
in their authority and in the influence they have exerted 
upon the Mohammedan mind. There are thousands of 
these traditions about the Prophet, including the prob- 
able, the improbable and the certainly false. To these 
traditions commentators and interpreters have added 
a literature that is like the sands of the sea. The tra- 


218 THE ARAB AT HOME 


ditions and the commentaries, however, are for the edu- 
cated and the religious leaders. It is noticeable that in 
religious controversy the ordinary man is inclined to 
quote from the Koran. The philosophical skeleton of 
Mohammedanism is furnished by the sacred book itself; 
the traditions and commentaries and the whole mass of 
other religious literature have merely filled in the details 
of ritual and observance. However much the various 
sects may differ in theory and religious practices, there 
is no school of Mohammedanism anywhere which does 
not look on the Koran as absolute authority. 

According to one of the early traditions, Mohammed 
is said to have prophesied that Islam would be divided 
into seventy-three sects, of which seventy-two would 
perish and one be saved. The various sects of Moham- 
medans that boast a separate identity are probably well 
over that number, but the one distinction of pronounced 
significance is that which divides the Mohammedan 
world into Sunnis, or orthodox believers, and Shiahs, or 
heretics. 

The current of the Sunni, or orthodox, faith has on 
the whole been remarkably free from disturbing changes. 
In the eighth and ninth centuries during the early days 
of the Baghdad Caliphate, there arose four great imams 
or commentators upon the Koran, and as a result the 
world of orthodox Mohammedanism has been divided 
ever since into four schools, the Malikites, the Shafiites, 
the Hanifites and the Hanbalites, each group taking its 
name from its founder. These legal schools or rites 
differ in regard to the traditions ascribed to Mohammed, 
in regard to the correct posture in prayer, and in other 
details which seem to an outsider the merest trifles. All 
but the last mentioned allow the interpretation of the 


THE MOHAMMEDAN FAITH 219 


Koran and the traditions in a somewhat flexible way to 
meet the needs of changing times. The Hanbalites ab- 
hor this modernizing tendency and reject in addition 
many of the traditions about Mohammed which all the 
other schools receive. Ibn Hanbal, the founder of this 
group, was a puritan of the puritans and he preached 
that salvation for the individual, as for the state, is to 
be found in strict adherence to the beliefs and practices 
of the Prophet. 

This Hanbalite school has had a great development 
in modern Arabia. Through the centuries following 
Mohammed, religious faith and practice in the peninsula 
became more and more lax, and especially among the 
desert nomads or Bedouins it gradually became mixed 
with an astonishing amount of superstition and possibly 
even idolatry. About the middle of the eighteenth cen- 
tury a puritan zealot appeared, by name Mohammed bin 
Abdul Wahab, preaching reform. He was a Hanbalite 
of the straitest variety, and in 1742 Mohammed bin 
Saoud, then sheikh of Deraiya in Central Arabia, accepted 
his doctrines. The type of strict Mohammedanism which 
Abdul Wahab preached makes an overwhelming appeal 
to the Arab mind. As in the days of Mohammed, the 
crusade then became both religious and political. In 
every direction religion was purified and the true faith 
was spread by means of the sword, and at the same time 
the political dominion of Mohammed bin Saoud spread 
far and wide. The whole of eastern Nejd and Hasa 
soon came under his sway. His son Abdul Aziz con- 
quered the greater part of the whole peninsula. Pilgrim 
caravans on their way to Mecca were looted, and in 1801 
Mecca was captured and drastic reforms instituted there. 
Kerbela in Mesopotamia was taken and looted the same 


220 THE ARAB AT HOME 


year; the shrine marking the tomb of the Shiah saint 
Hosain was destroyed and the sacred relics were scattered. 
Enormous plunder was brought back from this expedi- 
tion. The Wahabis earned the execration of the whole 
Shiah world by this act of desecration, which has never 
been forgiven. 

The Wahabis were particularly bitter against all ven- 
eration of the dead as savoring of idolatry. In 1810 they 
took Medina and plundered the tomb of Mohammed him- 
self. This act roused against them the determined en- 
mity of the whole Mohammedan world, and the following 
year Mehemet Ali, the ruler of Egypt, undertook their 
subjugation as a deputy of the Sultan of Turkey. It 
was eight years before the Wahabi capital at Deraiya 
fell, and in the meantime victory was more often with the 
Wahabis than with their enemies, but their resources were 
too small to permit them to cope with such an enemy and 
they were eventually overcome. 

A new capital was built at Riyadh a few years later, 
but the Wahabi state remained in a weak and chaotic con- 
dition until the advent of the present ruler, Ibn Saoud, in 
1901. His rise to political supremacy in central and 
northeastern Arabia has been narrated in some detail in a 
previous chapter. We have here to consider only the reli- 
gious phase of this modern Wahabi movement, a phase, 
however, which underlies its every manifestation and fur- 
nishes the clue to its political power. For, as might have 
been expected, along with the political development of the 
Wahabi state has gone a tremendous revival of the Wa- 
habiism of a hundred and fifty years ago. The revival 
began as an effort to instruct the Bedouins in their re- 
ligious rites, especially in the proper performance of their 
prayers. Those who had received a certain amount of 


THE MOHAMMEDAN FAITH ryan 


instruction and were judged capable of passing this in- 
struction on to their fellows were distinguished by a white 
head-dress and were termed “Akhwan,” that is the broth- 
ers. The movement originated in the oasis towns, those 
homes of fanatical Mohammedanism, but it is now 
strongest among the Bedouin nomads, who have come to 
look on the oasis townsmen with scorn as being crimi- 
nally lax in their religious observances. 

The whole of inland Arabia is now in the throes of 
this great religious revival. The stiffest sort of Wa- 
habiism is flourishing like a green bay tree. It is a 
movement of the Bedouins—of men with no education. 
Not one in a thousand of them can read and write, and 
few can lead in their own prayers. Their enthusiasm 
for their new-found or at least newly revived faith is 
superb. No fate is so desired as that of a martyr in 
the cause of God. As opponents on the field of battle, 
they are feared as is nothing else in heaven above or 
on the earth beneath. Their contempt for foreign infidels 
is beyond words. Here at last are some people who 
do not admire western civilization. The British Political 
Agent from the East Coast once visited Hasa, where 
many of these fanatical Bedouins come to trade. He 
was surprised to find that his position made no difference 
to these dour fanatics. They would turn their backs 
as he passed, to avoid the contamination of seeing him, 
an action which disturbed his soul considerably. 

These Wahabis actually thirst for death as martyrs 
in God’s cause. No hardship is too much for them, 
no privation causes complaint if it leads to this end. 
The rites of their faith are performed with the utmost 
rigor. The five stipulated prayers are compulsory, and 
the absentee without good reason is taken before the judge 


eae THE ARAB AT HOME 


and publicly beaten. As might be expected, the natural 
working out of this spirit leads to extreme cruelty at 
times. Trifles are elevated to the dignity of essential 
dogmas. The Akhwan are intolerant to the last degree. 
One of their dogmas is the sinfulness of tobacco smok- 
ing. Originally doubtless a teaching to the effect that 
tobacco is much better let alone, this has gradually been 
elevated to the status of a major doctrine in their minds. 
Men have even been executed for the heinous crime 
of tobacco smoking in Wahabiland. Indeed, almost the 
worst sin recognized is the use of tobacco in any form. 
Murder, adultery and theft are trifles in comparison. 
Palgrave, in his description of the original Wahabis, has 
some passages which might be applied without modifica- 
tion to the Akhwan of today. He tells of asking one 
of their religious leaders what were the principal sins. 
“The principal sins,” replied the leader,’”’ are two, poly- 
theism and smoking the shameful,’ that is tobacco. 
Another of Palgrave’s stories relates how a strict 
Wahabi sitting by the city gate saw one of the local 
grandees of Hail come in, dressed in silks and decorated 
with various gold ornaments. “God,” said the stern 
puritan, “will doubtless forgive murder and lies and 
theft, but He will never forgive clothes like that.” 

But it would be unfair to overlook the much finer con- 
ceptions to which Wahabiism often leads. I once sat an 
interested listener to one of Ibn Saoud’s sermons de- 
livered to a visiting group of the Akhwan, First he 
quoted some ancient worthy to the effect that most of 
those going to Heaven go there because of their bad 
deeds, and the greater number of those suffering in Hell 
are there because of their good deeds. “Now how can 
such a statement be explained? Doubtless in this way, 


saute 





MEMBERS OF THE AKHWAN 





THE MOHAMMEDAN FAITH 223 


that the majority of those who do bad deeds habitually, 
toward the end of life begin to think upon the evil of 
their ways, and so thinking, they approach God with 
humility and ask Him in His mercy to forgive them. 
Because of their humility God pardons them and gives 
them an entrance into Paradise. Those who have done 
good deeds all their life, as they grow old, because of 
the good deeds they have done and because of the praises 
they hear, usually become proud, and because of the 
pride of their hearts, God sends them to Hell.” 

Such doctrines imply genuinely spiritual ideals. In- 
deed no one who has come into close contact with these 
Akhwan can doubt their religious fervor. The strict 
religious observances of Wahabiism, the fanaticism and 
intolerance even, are the external signs of something with- 
in that is real and great. The impression gained from a 
visit to inland Arabia is quite overwhelming. Riyadh 
is a community of religion. The evening meal is eaten 
two hours before sunset so that the day’s work can be 
finished in good time and an opportunity thus secured 
for daily religious reading and instruction after sunset. 
Religion is the main pursuit not of a few but, as far 
as a stranger can judge, of the entire population. 

This Akhwan movement has no organization, and it 
has no relationship whatever with the dervish orders 
that flourish in other parts of the Mohammedan world. 
It is a tremendous spontaneous renewal of the Arab’s 
perennial search for an adequate conception of God. 
The Wahabi zealot longs to comprehend and express the 
great Arabic conception of God’s unity and omnipotence 
and then to enforce its acceptance on every man who 
falls under his power. Human life is a cheap and small 
thing to these fanatics compared with religious truth. 


224 THE ARAB AT HOME 


They hold as an essential part of their belief the teach- 
ings of the Koran and of Mohammed regarding re- 
ligious war. So the religious life and worship of the 
Arabs are being cleansed by fire and sword as inland 
Arabia once more returns to her original faith. The 
Wahabis are, of course, confined to a limited part of 
Arabia and constitute only a small proportion of the Sun- 
nis, or true believers, of the great world of Islam, but 
they represent the modern orthodox faith in what is per- 
haps its purest and most intense form. 

The only important deviation from this main stream 
of Sunni, or orthodox, Mohammedanism that has been 
described above, is Shiism. Its name comes from the 
Arabic word meaning division or schism. Shiism forms 
the one significant heresy of Mohammedanism. It orig- 
inated, as recounted in the preceding chapter, in an at- 
tempt to secure the office of the caliphate for Ali, the son- 
in-law of Mohammed, and for his two sons, Hasan and 
Hosain. From this beginning, which was almost purely 
political, the movement took on a more and more re- 
ligious character, and eventually Ali and his two sons 
were elevated to the rank of saints and had ascribed 
to them all manner of supernatural powers. 

In a rough way, the difference between the Sunnis 
and the Shiahs is somewhat similar to the difference be- 
tween the Protestants and Catholics in Christianity. 
The Sunnis in general, and especially the ultra-orthodox 
Sunnis of inland Arabia, have a naked, unadorned, 
monotheistic faith which recognizes nobody and noth- 
ing as standing between an individual and his Creator 
either for good or for ill. The Shiah heresy, on the 
other hand, spread most widely among the ceremony- 
loving Persians and was greatly influenced by that 


THE MOHAMMEDAN FAITH 225 


fact. It soon developed a more elaborate ritual than the 
orthodox Mohammedans would tolerate, and starting 
from the veneration of Ali and his sons, developed a 
complete system of saint worship that amounts almost 
to deification in some places. 

Extremists did actually assert the divinity of Ali 
but such a view failed to make any significant headway. 
All Shiahs agree, however, in regarding Ali and his 
descendants as the wnams, or rightful successors to the 
authority and power of Mohammed. They believe that 
the superhuman powers of the Prophet were transferred 
in turn to these tmams, who became therefore infallible 
interpreters of the will of God. The Shiah imams num- 
ber twelve in all. The twelfth imam never died but 
simply retired and will appear at the appointed time as 
the expected mahdi, or guide, the leader of the cause of 
Mohammedanism in the forcible conversion of the whole 
world. Associated with the coming of the mahdi will be 
the return of the Christ of the Christians, who will as- 
sist in the world conquest. Supporting this mass of 
heretical theology is a foundation of traditions concern- 
ing the teaching and the deeds of Mohammed which 
are not accepted as genuine by the orthodox. 

As might be expected, the Shiahs are more supersti- 
tious than the orthodox Sunnis. They make pilgrim- 
ages to the tombs not only of Ali and Hasan and 
Hosain and the others of their wnams, but also of many 
other saints of greater or less reputation. Tombs to be 
visited are to be found in nearly every village where 
Shiism is the predominant faith. There are elaborate 
ceremonies, prayers for the dead and detailed represen- 
tations of past sufferings of martyrs of the faith. 
Large functions are ascribed to these saints and martyrs 


226 THE ARAB AT HOME 


in the regulation of this world’s affairs, as also in the 
salvation of believers in the world to come. The tra- 
ditions of the Shiahs are kept constantly before the peo- 
ple by public “readings” which consist essentially of the 
recitation in a high and chanting voice of the sufferings 
of the religious heroes of the sect, especially of Ali and 
his sons, Hasan and Hosain. Great crowds gather to lis- 
ten to the readers, and the emotions run high. Women 
sit on the outskirts of the meetings and join in the 
weeping and wailing that accompany the recital. This 
may last for half an hour or an hour. Suddenly the 
reading ends and every one is happy and cheerful again. 
The sudden passing of the emotional storm is as strik- 
ing as its intensity. 

The culmination of this devotion to the saints of the 
faith comes in Moharram, the first month of the Moham- 
medan year, when the slaughter of Hosain and his fol- 
lowers at the battle of Kerbela is commemorated. Elab- 
orate processions march through the streets. In them 
the martyrdom of the heroes of the faith is graphically 
portrayed and in some cases acted out. The procession 
contains a group of sword dancers dressed in clean white 
gowns. As the procession starts, these men gash their 
foreheads with their swords, so that the blood runs down 
over their gowns. They present a gruesome spectacle 
as they dance and brandish their weapons. ‘They are 
followed by a band of breast beaters, whose breasts will 
be sore and blue for weeks. ‘There is also a bier with 
a decapitated hero upon it. A sheep’s carcass is placed 
in position just as the procession starts, with everything 
covered except the raw and bleeding stump of the neck. 
Great stress is placed on having the head of this sheep 
struck off just as the men start, so that blood spurts 


WVYAIVHOW AHL 








THE MOHAMMEDAN FAITH 227 


from it for perhaps fifty or a hundred feet of the march. 
A man rides along on horseback with a sword run di- 
rectly through his head. This illusion, of course, is pro- 
duced by using a special headpiece with the two halves 
of the sword attached. A float contains some children 
who piteously implore the bystanders for water, to recall 
the sufferings of the children of one of the ancient 
heroes. The whole ceremony is well done and is very 
realistic. 

Tremendous emotions are called forth by this spec- 
tacle and by the lesser processions of the first ten days 
of Moharram which lead up to the anniversary of the 
fateful battle. Men as well as women are overcome 
by emotion and break down into tears as they look 
on. There are readings every night which frequently 
last far into the morning hours. The celebration serves 
as an annual outlet for the religious emotion of the sect, 
and however superstitious and childish the observances 
may appear to us, there is no doubt whatever of the 
appeal that they make to their devotees. They are im- 
pressive, if for no other reason, by virtue of the innate 
religious thirst that they so obviously satisfy. The fol- 
lowers of the more colorless, albeit philosophically far 
stronger, Sunni faith, of course, look on all this heresy 
with stern disapproval as so much idolatry. One of the 
puritan Wahabis of inland Arabia brought a friend to 
the Bahrein Hospital and on the occasion of this visit 
witnessed for the first time this dreadful departure 
from the true faith. I asked him what they would think 
of such a procession in inland Arabia. “Such a thing,” 
he replied sternly, “would not be permitted in all the 
country of Ibn Saoud. Men guilty of such an enor- 
mity would be killed.” 


228 THE ARAB AT HOME 


Since its inception shortly after the death of the 
Prophet, the Shiah heresy has given rise to numerous 
distinct sects, all more or less closely allied with the com- 
mon faith. Under it dervish orders have flourished. 
The theology of many of these orders has more in com- 
mon with the pantheism of India than with the mono- 
theism of real Mohammedanism. Mysticism of the most 
extreme sort has always been one of their characteristics. 
A prominent example of this tendency of the Shiahs 
to form secret orders is seen in the Ismailites, or Assas- 
sins, who were a medieval development of the faith. 
They were a carefully organized secret society with 
lodges scattered over the whole Mohammedan world. 
There were seven orders in the lodge and those who at- 
tained to the highest had ceased to be real Mohammedans 
at all. This society adopted assassination as a legiti- 
mate method of work. By them murder was reduced 
to a fine art, and they spread terror over the whole Mo- 
hammedan world in the later days of the Baghdad Cal- 
iphate. The Mongol invaders who destroyed Baghdad 
and ravaged Mesopotamia have at least this much to 
their credit, that they wiped out this evil sect. 

The Ismailites, although they achieved more notoriety 
than other groups in the eyes of the non-Mohammedan 
world, are only one of a great number of Shiah sects, 
many of which played a prominent part in the political 
and religious development of Islam in the past and are 
extremely active elements today. It is beyond our prov- 
ince, however, to follow their history in detail, and for 
purposes of general consideration the modern Shiah 
sects may be regarded as a unit. 

This highly colored faith with its tendency to panthe- 
ism and mysticism, with its saint worship and ritual 


THE MOHAMMEDAN FAITH 229 


and graphic portrayal of the sufferings of saints and 
martyrs, has a large following among present-day Arabs, 
particularly in Mesopotamia and among the pearl divers 
of the Persian Gulf. It seems to appeal especially to 
the laboring classes. The vast majority of the pearl 
divers of Bahrein and the East Coast are Shiahs. Just 
when this schismatic faith penetrated the district no one 
seems to know. Bahrein is an island, and was once 
under Persian domination, although the Persian main- 
land is much farther away than the Arabian, which in- 
deed is in sight of Bahrein on clear days. Possibly as a 
result of this Persian occupation, the islands and the adja- 
cent Arabian mainland are populated by a peculiar com- 
munity known as the Baharina, which bears every evi- 
dence in temperament and otherwise of being a mixture 
of Arab and Persian blood. <A certain number of Sunni 
Arabs do dive for pearls, but generally they are stran- 
gers who come from outside. The two classes rarely 
associate even in their work. The Baharina as a com- 
munity are solidly Shiah in their religious convictions. 

The ideas of the Shiahs have never penetrated deeply 
into inland Arabia, and there the date gardeners are 
Sunnis, as are also the artisans. Hasa, however, which 
is at the same time a large oasis and a pearl-diving com- 
munity near the coast, has been reached by the Shiah 
faith, with the result that the community is divided 
sharply into two classes. The smaller class includes the 
rulers and the merchants and land-owners and is Sunni 
in its religious convictions. The other, much larger 
class includes pearl divers and artisans, of whom there 
are thousands, and the gardeners, who must constitute 
from seventy-five to ninety per cent of the population, 
and these are all Shiahs. One might almost say that 


230 THE ARAB AT HOME 


every man in Hasa who does an honest day’s work 
is a Shiah., 

In general, the people who do the work of Arabia ap- 
pear to find the Shiah type of Mohammedanism much 
more satisfactory than the orthodox and mechanical 
Sunni faith. Why this type of highly colored religion 
should be the one invariably chosen by the working 
Arab whenever the choice is offered him, while the 
nomad, the merchant and the ruler prefer the naked, 
unadorned worship of the one God, is something that 
theologians might find an interesting study. Apparently 
it is essentially a mere variant of genuine Mohammed- 
anism, for its adherents seem to have been drawn from 
other Mohammedan sects and never from the non- 
Mohammedan world. However extreme the hostility 
which may develop between the Shiahs and the orthodox, 
there is never any tendency to reject the Koran or Mo- 
hammed. The appeal of Shiism is a very powerful one, 
and I have never heard of a Shiah becoming a Sunni 
either recently or in the past. The current seems al- 
ways to flow in the contrary direction. At present, how- 
ever, the movement seems to have come to a standstill. 
Once only I met a man who was one of a consider- 
able number who had left the Sunni faith to become 
Shiahs, and that event had taken place nearly fifty years 
ago. In these days no such conversions are heard of; 
no one thinks of changing his brand of Mohammedan- 
ism either one way or the other. » 


CUA Ee UL 


CELE LV a ET TA BS 


OTHING surprises a visitor more than the 
N amount of time and effort that the Arabs spend 

on their religion. Looking out of his port- 
hole on a Persian Gulf steamer, the tourist sees them 
praying long before he is willing to get up. He learns 
that these men pray five times a day and that the proper 
performance of the ceremony takes from fifteen to 
twenty minutes each time. The richest cannot escape 
from these prayers and the poorest is not excused from 
them. Shops in the bazaar close during prayer time. 
The most important business of life is to pray. 

There are other religious duties also. One month out 
of the twelve is a fast month. Once in his lifetime 
every Arab who is able to do so must make the long, 
tedious, expensive journey to Mecca, the religious center 
of his world. He must repeat his short creed on every 
occasion. If he is a man of wealth, he must give a 
definite proportion of his income to religious benevolences. 
The name of God is on every man’s lips continually. 
The commonest affirmative reply in Arabia is “Jn-. 
shallah (li God wills),’ which means in the Arab’s 
mouth exactly what it means in our own. A more un- 
qualified affirmative than this is the name of God re- 
peated rapidly twice, “Allah allah.” News either bad or 


good is met with “E] hamdu allah (Praise the Lord),” 
231 


232 THE ARAB .AT HOME 


which means the same in Arabia as it does in an Amer- 
ican revival meeting. 

This use of the name of God is equally common in 
literature. Every book must begin “In the name of God 
the Merciful and Compassionate.” This is true of the 
one-page political pamphlet and of the scientific treatise 
of a hundred volumes. It is true of religious dis- 
quisitions and of stories beside which the worst products 
of Paris and New York are clean and wholesome tales. 
I once listened to a discussion on this point. 

“Your books,” an objector said to a mission colporteur, 
“cannot be good ones. They do not open with ‘In the 
name of God the Merciful and Compassionate.’ ”’ 

“Tt is true,” replied the colporteur, “that the sacred 
book of the Christians does not open with that formula, 
but are you sure that the opening formula is the im- 
portant thing? I have just sold you an Arabic story- 
book which is full of accounts of all sorts of sin, and 
it begins with that formula. Would you rather eat 
poison over which this formula had been pronounced or 
wholesome food cooked without it?’ 

Not only in its opening passage but on almost every 
page Arabic literature is filled with all the devout phrases 
that are in common conversational use. The edition of 
the “Arabian Nights” that we use in the West has lost a 
certain amount of this picturesque element, but enough 
remains to give any reader a good idea of this universal 
characteristic of Arabic literature. 

Any one who becomes intimately acquainted with the 
Arab realizes that these external observances and this 
free use of the name of God in conversation and liter- 
ature are simply external signs of an overwhelmingly 
religious mind. We of the West, even regular church- 


“THE FIVE PILLARS” 233 


goers, have a very mild sort of religion judged by 
Arab standards. With the majority of us religion has 
been relegated to the category of the vague, the distant 
and the uncertain. The material affairs of this present 
world occupy our minds. The Arab’s mind, on the con- 
trary, is essentially religious and he finds in the observ- 
ance of his various religious duties a profound satisfac- 
tion that the average Westerner might be somewhat at 
a loss to comprehend. 

Just as the religious philosophy of the Arab centers 
around his conception of God, so his religious observ- 
ances center around prayer. In the West, the average 
Christian lays more stress on the weekly preaching serv- 
ice on Sunday than on his daily individual prayer. In 
the mind of the Arab this order is reversed. He also 
has weekly services of prayer and preaching on Friday, 
which corresponds in his system to our Sunday, but this 
weekly preaching service does not compare in importance 
with the prayers that he repeats carefully five times every 
day. It makes no difference who may be present, or 
what may be the business of the moment. Two hours 
before sunrise, at noon, two hours before sunset, at sun- 
set and two hours after sunset, five times each day, the 
stipulated prayers must be observed. Ablutions, in 
water or if no water is available in sand, are required 
before these prayers. The proper performance of the 
prayer ceremony takes perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes 
each time. These ritualistic prayers, the form of 
which has not varied for thirteen hundred years, are 
obligatory on all men alike. 

Prayers may be performed privately at home but it is 
reckoned much more meritorious to pray with the con- 
gregation in the mosque. In congregational service a 


234 THE ARAB AT HOME 


leader intones the prayer, and all join in the “A—muin” 
with which the different paragraphs close. The hundreds 
of worshippers stand in long rows, and as the leader ends 
each paragraph, the deep musical “d—min’ of the 
response sounds almost like the tone of a great organ. 
I know of few more impressive sights than sunset pray- 
ers in the large city mosque, or better still, out under the 
open sky in the limitless desert. Line behind line they 
stand and kneel and prostrate themselves together. The 
master is there with his slave. The man who has spent 
twenty years in the schools stands next to a Bedouin who 
can neither read nor write. The richest man of the com- 
munity stands next to one who is just out of jail for 
debt. No one is surprised, for it is the ordinary thing. 
It would surprise them to be told that there are places in 
this world where men persist in their conceits and 
divisions even when standing in the presence of the om- 
nipotent God. 

In inland Arabia, where the fanatical Wahabis live, 
the roll is called at early morning prayers and any man 
who is absent is hunted up and hailed before the judge. 
Sickness is an adequate excuse and if on some account 
the absentee prayed in another mosque, he is dismissed as 
blameless, but if he was simply too lazy to get up in time 
for such early devotions, he is publicly beaten to increase 
his zeal. A few years ago one of the rising generation 
in Riyadh decided that he had prayed enough, and ab- 
sented himself from all prayers for a week. His re- 
bellion lasted that long only because there was difficulty 
in locating him. He was brought before the judge and 
examined. 

“Why have you stopped praying?” 

He was a stout-hearted reprobate and added insult to 


SHNOSONW IVOIGAL 








“THE FIVE PILLARS” 235 


injury. ‘‘Because,” he replied, “I am tired of praying 
so much.” 

He was executed on a high gallows and his body left 
there as an example for the general public. His father, 
who came to intercede for the foolish boy, was publicly 
beaten for so far making himself an accomplice in the 
heinous crime of infidelity. 

These prayers are ritual prayers and, repeated five 
times a day, they suffer the inevitable fate of ritual and 
become formal and mechanical. It is not correct, how- 
ever, to brand them as insincere. For centuries, millions 
have put these prayers first in their lives, and it is idle to 
bring a charge of insincerity against such an institution. 
According to the teaching of the mullahs, or religious 
leaders, there is opportunity for the presentation of per- 
sonal requests after the completion of the stipulated rit- 
ual. Few Mohammedans know of this provision and 
fewer still make use of it. As far as the ordinary Arab 
is concerned, ritual prayers are the only kind he knows 
anything about. Mechanical and formal as they are, 
they are often the sincere cries of earnest hearts. I have 
seen grizzled patriarchs, veterans of many a raid and 
many a hard campaign, pause by the side of the operating 
table and stand there silently as their lips moved in the 
repetition of some part of their prayers. 

Just as prayer is the most outstanding feature of the 
Arab’s religious life, so the house of prayer or mosque is 
the most striking architectural feature of his cities and 
towns. The religion of the Arab centers around the 
mosque. All prayer is more efficacious and meritorious 
if performed in the mosque, and there is the added attrac- 
tion of friends to meet. Mosques are numerous in every 
Mohammedan city. There is no rule as to the number, 


236 THE ARAB AT HOME 


but generally they are small and the community served 
by one cannot exceed fifty to two hundred families. It 
is a very small village that has but one mosque. To this 
little mosque the male members of the entire community 
come five times a day to pray together. Neighborliness 
as well as religion is fostered by such an arrangement. 

There are a few larger mosques especially designed to 
accommodate the Friday worshippers. Probably a dozen 
to twenty small mosques hold no service Friday noon, and 
a special service which includes a sermon is held instead in 
the large mosque. During the week this large mosque 
serves its own small community, just as do the small 
mosques of the city. This large mosque, or masjid el 
jamt, as it is called, is the center of community life. Its 
primary function is religious, but it serves also to house 
religious schools of an advanced type and occasionally 
even primary Koran schools. It is also an inn where 
any belated traveler may rest for the night, where the 
poor who must beg for their living can sleep, and where 
any man who is sick may rest till he recovers, if he has 
no better place to go. I myself have slept in the wayside 
mosques of Oman while traveling in that part of Arabia. 
This function of the mosques as philanthropic institutions 
is very important. No beggar, no traveler, no stranded 
sick man need lack for shelter, at least, in any Moham- 
medan city. 

Mosques are for men to pray in. Women are sup- 
posed to pray just as faithfully as the men, but they pray 
at home. Only in Oman do they pray in mosques and 
then not with the men but in mosques of their own. 
However, the Friday services are frequently listened to 
by numbers of women. They can be seen sitting closely 
veiled outside the sacred precincts. No doubt they enjoy 


CH ERSTIVE (PILAR S” 237 


the service quite as keenly as the men, and the social ex- 
perience is also attractive, for it is quite an event in the 
lives of such secluded women. 

In Arabia in general, and particularly in inland Arabia, 
the architecture of the mosque is severely simple. The 
high minaret and the elaborate dome with the gilded roof 
are developments of more luxurious and worldly com- 
munities. The Wahabi puritans of inland Arabia have 
low minarets which are devoid of every architectural em- 
bellishment. Within there is no decoration. The wor- 
shipper sees clean mats spread on a clean floor and clean 
white walls with a niche in that wall which faces Mecca. 
The more elaborate architecture that has been developed 
in Turkey and Persia represents the influence of foreign 
elements in Mohammedanism not found in inland Arabia. 

The services are as simple as their surroundings. The 
daily prayer services are simply prayers with nothing 
whatever added, and the Friday service is nearly as sim- 
ple. There is no effort at enrichment or variety in the 
simple united worship and sermon. The men stand in 
orderly rows, and following a leader they repeat the 
“A—min” after each paragraph of the prayer he in- 
tones, and kneel and prostrate themselves and rise to- 
gether. There are no responsive readings and no music. 
Such innovations would be regarded with horror. Mo- 
hammed is said to have closed his ears once on hearing 
music, and so for the orthodox of all time it is taboo. 
I once asked an Arab to come into a Christian service in 
Bahrein. “Do you call that a religious servicer’ he 
asked with great scorn. ‘‘Why there is music there, 
and women with their faces uncovered,—just like a 
theater.”’ 

What has been said above applies to the orthodox 


238 THE ARAB AT HOME 


Sunni community. The Shiahs pray three times a day 
instead of five. The noon prayers and the late night 
prayers are omitted and the afternoon and sundown pray- 
ers are lengthened to make up the difference. This prac- 
tice is allowed among the Sunnis only on a journey. 
The prayers in the mosque are much less emphasized by 
the Shiahs than the Sunnis. In particular the emphasis 
put upon the Friday service has almost disappeared and 
the frequent public readings, or recitals of the deeds of 
Hasan, Hosain and other martyrs of the faith, occupy a 
large place in Shiah religious life. These readings may 
be held in the afternoon or evening on any day of the 
week and in any house. 

Next to prayer the most important religious observ- 
ance in Arabia is fasting. Every Mohammedan must 
fast one lunar month out of the twelve. The month 
called Ramadhan is set apart for this observance. By 
fasting the Arab means abstinence from all food, drink 
and tobacco from early morning to sunset. From the 
time in the morning when a black thread can be distin- 
guished from a white one until sundown, he may taste 
nothing. During the night, however, men may eat and 
drink, and thus it happens that the fast month by day is 
a feast month by night. It is the season par excellence 
for indigestible pastries and impossible candies. The 
bazaar is frequently open and brilliantly illuminated the 
whole night. More cases of acute indigestion come to 
the hospital during this month than in any other two. 

In the days when the Turks were in power, there were 
usually a large number of leading citizens of the official 
class who regularly broke the fast in private while out- 
wardly making great professions of observance. In 
Kuwait, when Sheikh Khazal of Mohammerah visited 


VINVLOGOSAW NI SANGSOW 








“THE FIVE PILLARS” 239 


the late Sheikh Mubarak, the faithful of the city were 
scandalized by having the visiting sheikh ride out in state 
during the fast month with a water jug carried along 
openly lest a transient thirst should go unslaked. This 
gratuitous insult to the exceedingly religious inhabitants 
of Kuwait was very keenly resented. 

But violations of the spirit and letter of this law are 
rare among the Arabs. The month is a time of great 
hardship for cultivators and other working men. Since 
the Mohammedan year of twelve lunar months is about 
ten days shorter than a solar year, the different months 
move gradually around the circle of the four seasons. 
The fast month works far less hardship in winter than 
when it comes in summer. A pious Arab considers it 
next to infidelity to complain of any hardship caused by 
the fast, and the men who do the heavy work of the 
cities are frequently the most scrupulous of all in its 
observance. ‘Their constancy reflects no small credit on 
their religious devotion, especially in summer when the 
days are long and hot. From the beginning of the fast 
at early dawn till sunset may be sixteen hours or even 
more, and heavy work under an almost tropical sun for 
that period of time without food or drink is an indica- 
tion of real religious zeal. There is no difference between 
Sunni and Shiah here. All are examples of faithfulness. 

Everybody is short-tempered in Ramadhan. In an 
Arabian bazaar a quarrel is a rare thing. It is a great 
disgrace to forget one’s self in public so far as to mani- 
fest a loss of temper, and thus with all the bickering and 
bargaining of the market, one might visit it every day for 
a month without witnessing a single altercation. But in 
Ramadhan it is another story. From the middle of the 
afternoon till sundown the place is full of quarrels. Men 


— 240 THE ARAB AT HOME 


lose their temper over a penny. The shopkeepers refuse 
to bargain. 

“What is the price of this?” 

“Five Medysidies.” 

“Certainly that is much too high. I will give you 
two.” 

“If you ask me to quote a price again,’ snarled a shop- 
keeper to me once under these circumstances, “it will be 
six Medjidies, and each time after that it will go up a 
Medjidie.’ The next morning when temper is restored 
the article can probably be bought for three. 

Next to prayer and fasting the Arab regards alms- 
giving as the sign of a really religious man. The Arab’s 
idea is that merit lies in feeding any beggar however un- 
deserving, and much of the almsgiving is done as by the 
Pharisees of old to be seen of men. A reputation for 
religious zeal is an invaluable asset in Arabia, and a high 
price is sometimes paid for it. Some rich merchants of 
Bahrein distribute a religious tithe among the poor once 
each year. On the day of the distribution traffic in the 
region of the benevolent merchant’s office is blocked for 
several squares. Poor women receive much of. this 
money, and no event of the year brings out such a crowd 
of the sequestered females of Arabia. The blind and 
crippled receive considerable amounts, and no effort is 
made to distinguish between needy applicants and those 
who are simply turning an honest penny in the most con- 
venient way. 

Beggars in Arabia never go hungry. Indeed, the 
blind beggars, of whom there are always many, usually 
appear to be the fattest members of the community. 
These men are in need, and as they beg from door to door 
scarcely a house will refuse to give them something. It 


“THE FIVE PILLARS” 241 


is easy to see the evils of such a system. Unquestionably 
it encourages shiftlessness; one might almost say that 
begging is the easiest way to earn a living in Arabia. 
Some of us, however, may be allowed to doubt whether 
this easy charity is any less acceptable to the Judge of 
All the Earth Who does Right, than the hard-boiled cal- 
lousness with which the West treats its unfortunates. 
The virtues of the system are not to be lightly passed 
over. Every oriental community contains many who 
must beg. There are men out of work seeking a new 
location with their families, who beg rather than im- 
pose on the hospitality of a total stranger. Apparently 
none of them suffer from hunger. And when years of 
extreme want come and animals die from lack of food 
and water, the system means that the slender resources 
of the community are available for all till better times 
appear. It is a rare thing indeed for any man or 
woman in an Arab community to come to actual hun- 
ger, and starvation is unknown. — 

To this more or less conventional almsgiving the 
pious Mohammedan, moved by the vision of God’s 
omnipotence and men’s equality, frequently adds a 
neighborliness and practical benevolence that give us 
much to admire and not a little to imitate. A retired 
and broken business man of Bahrein was once a patient 
in the Mission Hospital. His money was gone and he 
was accompanied by a single servant. Nevertheless, he 
was visited with great faithfulness by many of his old 
friends, who included some of the richest business men 
of the city. One of them, perhaps the most important 
of all, came regularly every morning to sit and visit 
for half an hour or more. That man was agent for 
a line of steamers; his business was large and its de- 


242 THE ARAB AT HOME 


mands incessant, but even on days when his steamers 
were unloading, he found time to come and visit his 
friend. 

That bankrupt merchant had more to thank his friends 
for than visits when he was sick. For years he had 
been the leading business man in Bahrein, and his name 
was a synonym for generosity and fair dealing over 
all eastern Arabia. But in an evil moment he took up 
pearl brokerage and inside of a few years he was penni- 
less. His debts were overwhelming. He could not 
meet them by hundreds of thousands of dollars, but his 
friends arranged matters so that on the settling up of 
his affairs he still had some thirty thousand dollars left 
upon which to live comfortably and .with which to start 
his children in business 

The men’s ward in the Bahrein Hospital is crowded 
with visitors nearly every afternoon. Even distant 
relatives and nominal friends try to drop in occasionally 
to express their good wishes and their confidence in the 
favorable outcome of the illness. After about four 
o’clock the ward buzzes with such a talk-fest as hospi- 
tals at home know nothing about. It is reckoned a 
grievous thing to forget one’s duties to a sick friend, 
and hardly anything causes such resentment as neglect 
at that time. 

The Arab, even in his casual relationships, is very anx- 
ious to avoid any infliction of pain or discomfort. He 
will tell a lie rather than wound the feelings of a chance 
acquaintance, even though he knows perfectly that the 
real truth will be known very soon and that the pain 
of the discovery will be in no way lessened by the delay. 
The most optimistic attitude is taken toward everything. 
Sometimes this is ludicrous. Sometimes it is pathetic. 


“THE FIVE PILLARS” 243 


A sick man is assured that he is looking better up to 
within five minutes of his death. The traveler across 
the desert is assured that the end of the day’s journey 
is almost in sight. The doctor asking where the sick 
man lives is assured that it is near by. I once walked 
a distance that must have been nearly five miles to get 
to such a “near” house. But there is something to be 
said for this attitude of mercy, which to the best of 
its ability lightens the troubles of the world by: at least 
asserting their insignificance. The Arab understands 
far better than we do what Christ meant when He said, 
“Blessed are the merciful.” 

Every good Moslem must also testify to his belief in 
God and the Prophet on every possible occasion. The 
regular formula, “There is no God but God, and Mo- 
hammed is the apostle of God,’ must be on his lips 
continually. Any man whose religious complexion is 
under suspicion is immediately asked to testify in this 
manner. “Jstishhad (Testify), said a dour Wahabi to 
me as I sat on the bench outside the door of Ibn Saoud’s 
castle once, while waiting for news of my arrival to be 
carried to the chief. But I did not testify and the man 
became suspicious. 

“Do you testify that there is no God but God?” 

“Certainly.” 

“Do you testify that Mohammed is the apostle of 
God ?” 

BN Oe 

I was regarded with great surprise and curiosity. 
Here was a man who split his faith in two, a phenom- 
enon apparently new to my questioner. Further in- 
quiries were interrupted by an invitation to enter the 
castle. 


244 THE ARAB AT HOME 


To these four “pillars of religion,’ as the Arab terms 
them, must be added a fifth, namely the pilgrimage to 
Mecca, or the hadj, as it is called in Arabia. Every Mo- 
hammedan who is able to undertake it is expected to 
make this pilgrimage at least once. “Ability,” however, 
is interpreted very flexibly, and barring the very rich, 
who lose caste by not conforming to their religious du- 
ties, it is more a matter of zeal than of means. The 
pilgrimage usually takes nearly six months’ time, and 
while the rich spend far more than the poor, the trip is 
for all a great expense and burden. Nevertheless the 
number of pilgrims is enormous. One year when I was 
in Kuwait the hadj numbered over a thousand from that 
city alone. It is claimed that in one season there may 
be one hundred and fifty thousand pilgrims visiting 
Mecca, 

Mecca, the pilgrimage city, is perhaps fifty miles from 
the Red Sea in the kingdom of Hejaz in western 
Arabia. It has no railroads, and the caravan routes en- 
tering it are usually infested by turbulent Bedouin nomads 
who extort a rich tribute from the unwilling pilgrims. 
The city itself, according to Arab testimony, is no orna- 
ment to Mohammedanism. Immorality is rife, profiteer- 
ing is universal and gambling and drinking common. 
However, the sanctity of the city as the pilgrim’s ob- 
jective is in no wise impaired by these conditions. The 
man who has made the hadj is a hadji for the rest of 
his life, and has gained a past master’s degree in the 
greatest fraternity in the world. He stands before the 
greatest ruler, as before the meanest citizen, on a plane 
of special honor. He may spend the rest of his days 
in jail for debt, he may be decapitated for murder, 
but he remains a hadji. 


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“THE FIVE PILLARS” 245 


Funeral rites among the Arabs are simple and im- 
pressive. The dead individual is buried before sundown 
of the same day if that is possible, and early in the 
morning if death occurred in the night. There is a 
very great reluctance to bury at night, and such a burial 
is almost never seen except during a great epidemic. 
The body is carefully washed and wrapped in clean 
white cotton cloth and this again in some heavier ma- 
terial. There are some simple exercises in the home con- 
sisting essentially of a short reading from the Koran. 
_ The body is then carried on a stretcher to the cemetery 
where the grave has been prepared. The size of the 
crowd that follows the bier testifies to the prominence 
of the dead man in the community. It is an act of 
religious merit to assist in carrying such a bier, and the 
merit does not depend on the length of time spent in 
the service, so as many as possible try to assist, if only 
for a few seconds, and as the bier moves rapidly down 
the street to the chant of “La itllah illa allah,’ the 
bearers are constantly changing. At the grave the cere- 
monies are brief. The body is laid on its side in a 
niche cut in one side of the grave so that the dead man 
faces Mecca. A roof of flat stones is placed sufficiently 
above the body to permit it to sit up. The mullah in 
charge gives the dead man his final instructions as to 
the proper answers for the recording angel, who will 
soon come to question him. He must sit up to reply. 
After the final instructions are given, the grave is filled. 
The ceremonies of the Shiahs are somewhat longer, es- 
pecially at the house before the procession starts for 
the cemetery, but even these are not elaborate. A mullah 
may be engaged to read at the grave for a few days. 
Sometimes the dead man leaves money to provide for 


246 THE ARAB AT HOME 


the continuance of this service over a long period. 
This, however, is an unusual thing, and in general the 
Arab dismisses the departed with the hope that he has 
gained an entrance into Paradise and turns to the usual 
duties of life with less of the unhealthy desire to cling 
to a fond memory than prevails with us. The idea of 
communications with the departed or of visitation by 
their spirits seems to be entirely foreign to the Arab 
mind. The dead man has “entered into the mercy of 


God.” 


CUA PTE Rai 


AN APPRAISAL OF MOHAMMEDANISM 


since Mohammed saw his visions and gave his new 
religion to the world. His system was wonderfully 
adapted to the Arab mind, for it was little else than the 
projection of that mind into the realm of religion. As 
its history shows, it proved almost equally adapted to 
the primitive mind everywhere. It has spread into every 
continent in the world except one, and now comprises 
over two hundred and fifty million followers. For 
aggressiveness, flexibility and power Mohammedanism 
is the outstanding religious phenomenon of centuries. 
Wherever this faith has been carried, the primitive 
mind accepts its main philosophical tenets with the un- 
questioning acquiescence that we give to a geometrical 
axiom. One might as well argue with a Westerner that 
things equal to the same thing are unequal to each other 
as to argue with an Arab against the fundamental ar- 
ticles of the Mohammedan creed. This has been the 
first and perhaps the most important reason for its al- 
most irresistible spread. The ignorant African in Zan- 
zibar, the Moro in the Philippines, the Afridi in Afghan- 
istan and the Turk in Constantinople, together with the 
Arab who gave the system to the world, bow down un- 
questioningly to its philosophical system. 


It is not remarkable that trained schoolmen come to 
247 


ie is now thirteen hundred years and a little more 


248 THE ARAB AT HOME 


argue skilfully in Islam’s favor. Trained schoolmen 

“can argue skilfully for anything. But it is remarkable 
that the untutored Bedouin of the desert, who never 
read a book nor went to school a day in his life, brings 
every new philosophical and religious idea that he meets 
to the touchstone of Mohammedan philosophy and un- 
erringly rejects it if he finds it inconsistent with that 
system. When that philosophy has once been introduced 
into the primitive mind, all external phenomena and all 
mental processes seem to range themselves around it as 
a center, like ice crystals around a nucleus in slowly 
freezing water. I have discussed religion with fanatical 
Bedouins of the desert, with the Shiah Mohammedans 
of Katif, with the liberal Mohammedans of Meso- 
potamia and with the nationalist Mohammedans of 
North India. However they may differ in externals, 
they are all alike in this, that their minds are all centered 
about Mohammed’s great conception of God. Every 
other element is subordinate to that. 

The second great reason for the strength of the sys- 
tem that Mohammed introduced is the satisfaction it af- 
fords to the religious nature. It is idle for us of the 
West to assert that we can see flaws in its spiritual con- 
ceptions. Men and women by the million live by that 
faith and would be glad to die for it. Its conception 
of God harmonizes their universe. In its vision of 
God’s unity and omnipotence their highest religious 
feelings are satisfied; in unquestioning obedience and 
whole-hearted devotion to this God they find an adequate 
object and purpose for life. Here also it is not the 
devotion of trained beneficiaries of the system that stirs 
our surprise. ‘The very essence of the system’s strength 
lies in the fact that it commands the whole-hearted de- 


MOHAMMEDANISM 249 


votion of common men, nomads, cultivators and laborers. 
In twelve years’ experience in Arabia, never but once 
have I been able to discover any evidence of unsatisfied 
spiritual thirst in an Arab’s mind. Mohammedanism 
appears to satisfy every one of his conscious religious 
needs. The African.negro finds in this religion a satisfac- 
tion that his animism never afforded. The Malay head- 
hunter and the mountaineer from Central Asia are simi- 
larly captivated. The man is blind who sees in Mo- 
hammed’s sword the explanation for the spread of his 
religion. Mohammedanism lost its sword long since, 
but it still spreads, and for the same reason that it spread 
when first introduced, because of its appeal to the mind 
and heart of primitive men. 

A third reason for the great strength of the system 
that Mohammed introduced lies in the social order which 
it sets up. That social order may be pitifully weak and 
utterly stagnant. It contains none the less the one thing 
that men want—human equality. Its success in this 
regard has been far from perfect. Society in the oases 
and coast communities of Arabia itself is composed of 
rich merchants and land-owners and poor cultivators 
and pearl divers. Slavery has been accepted as a nor- 
mal element of society; women form almost a pariah 
caste. )But religiously every caste line has been wiped 
out. Men pray together, rich and poor and small and 
great, one next to another in the great mosque, and every 
departure from this spirit in the social life of the com- 
munity is regarded as flatly in contradiction with the 
will of God. Furthermore race lines have been oblit- 
erated. The black man in Africa and the brown man 
in the Malay peninsula, the yellow man in China and 
the white man in the Circassian Mountains, are all equal 


250 THE ARAB AT HOME 


in the sight of God and in this great international fra- 
ternity. The hadj, or annual pilgrimage, brings together 
men of almost every eastern nation. This international- 
ism is a very real and a very powerful thing. The great 
schools of Cairo and Mecca are filled with students 
from Java and Singapore and China. I have met men 
from North Africa studying in Hasa. One of my 
friends in Bahrein told me with great elation of his 
brother who was a teacher in a Mohammedan school 
in the Philippine Islands. In that tie he felt the thrill 
of a religion that was as wide as the world itself. A 
few years ago a road in Cawnpore, India, was laid out 
so as to trespass in a trifling way on the grounds of a 
mosque. The local Mohammedans were furious at this 
affront to their faith, and so were the Mohammedans of 
Bahrein hundreds and thousands of miles away. 
Moreover, wherever Mohammedanism has gone, the 
value of the individual has been emphasized and men 
stand upright in the strength of an unbreakable self- 
respect. The Indian as a rule is a somewhat cringing 
individual but no one could say that of the Moham- 
medans of India’s northern provinces. The most in- 
tractable fighters against alien domination in the Philip- 
pines were the Mohammedan tribes. ‘Turkey is a stag- 
nant country, backward in all the arts of modern civili- 
zation, in trade and in education. Nevertheless, the 
Turk is one of the best and cleanest fighters in all Eu- 
rope. The Mohammedans of North China are so differ- 
ent from the orthodox Mohammedans of inland Arabia 
that they would scarcely be accepted by those puritans 
as members of the Great Fraternity. Nevertheless they 
are the strongest element in that country. There is no 
doubt that this religion has wonderfully developed the 


MOHAMMEDANISM 251 


self-respect of the races who have adopted it and made 
them much less willing to accept alien domination. Such 
a spirit is an invaluable contribution to their eventual 
development. 

Thirteen centuries is a long time, sufficient to justify 
an appraisal of the effect of this religion on human so- 
ciety in the various countries where it has been introduced. 
The results of such an examination are somewhat sur- 
prising. Something of the strength and fineness of its 
conceptions has been indicated above. But all institutions 
of society must be judged finally by the standards of 
the biologist. Religion, like everything else, must expect 
to be askéd not merely whether it is venerable or even 
whether it is attractive. The first question is whether 
it is beneficial. Does it increase man’s ability to exploit 
his external environment? In other words, does it help 
humanity to obtain food and clothes and fuel and 
shelter ? 

Mohammedanism, with its powerful appeal to the mind 
and heart, might be expected to strengthen any com- 
munity accepting it, and to make that community’s co- 
operative adaptation to its environment much more effec- 
tive. Unfortunately the most superficial examination 
shows that the new system instead of helping has proved 
a hindrance. It is hardly correct to speak of the Arab 
as extracting subsistence from his external environment. 
It must be presented to him above ground, almost 
thrown in his face, before he makes use of it. Many’ 
more oasis communities might be established in Arabia 
if the Bedouins of the desert cared for the work of 
gardening. Nothing but the pinch of actual want will 
induce the pearl divers of Bahrein to fish throughout the 
winter when diving for pearls is impossible. The Gulf is 


292 THE ARAB AT HOME 


full of fish, but fishing is hard and laborious. Hardly a 
society on earth could be found with less aptitude than 
the Arab’s for extracting a satisfactory subsistence from 
its external environment. 

What is true of Arabia holds true of other parts of the 
Mohammedan world. Mesopotamia with its fertile soil 
watered by two rivers was once the garden spot of 
the earth. The inhabitants were then largely fire- 
worshippers. Physical conditions have not changed, but 
after thirteen hundred years of Mohammedanism Meso- 
potamia is a desert inhabited by roving nomads. Turkey 
is splendidly endowed with natural resources, but even 
those that are easily accessible, like petroleum in the 
Mosul district, have been allowed to lie unused. India 
is a backward land, a country of poverty and stagnation, 
and of all the communities in India, the Mohammedans 
are the most backward, the least literate. The various 
tribes of the Philippines, on the other hand, have made 
much progress in the last hundred years; it is scarcely 
too much to say that they are now about to enter the 
company of independent civilized nations. But the 
Philippines include one stagnant element, the Moham- 
medan Moros, who have no desire for civilization and 
have remained in their former semi-savage state. Af- 
ghanistan, Persia and Egypt are all Mohammedan states. 
All are only now emerging from the twilight of bar- 
barism, and the small advances that they show they owe 
to the stimulus of contact with, and even coercion from, 
the external non-Mohammedan world. Wherever we 
meet this religion, the story is the same. Nowhere has 
it brought real progress. Everywhere it has been a 
hindrance. Man’s ability to live, to wrest life’s neces- 
sities from the material world, has been diminished rather 


MOHAMMEDANISM 253 


than increased by the religion of Mohammed. 

A religion might conceivably tend downward of it- 
self, but because of its tolerance and the receptivity it 
induces toward all good things from without, so facili- 
tate the assimilation of other peoples’ progress that the 
sum of its influence would still be favorable. But Mo- 
hammedanism is not simply sterile of itself. It has not 
merely subtracted from the ability of every community ac- 
cepting it to gain a livelihood from external environment. 
It has so developed prejudice and pride in its devotees that 
no such determined enemies of all progress are to be 
found anywhere as Mohammedan states and Moham- 
medan communities. With the exception of Tibet there 
is hardly a country in the world closed to travelers and 
to scientific investigators except Mohammedan countries. 
Modern education is penetrating the world and the re- 
sults of the scientific investigation of the West are 
being gladly utilized by nearly every nation, again with 
the exception of the Mohammedan countries. Our 
American universities contain thousands of students 
from China, and hundreds from India, from Japan, and 
even from the minority communities of the Near East. 
As a contrast there are surprisingly few who come from. 
Mohammedan states. There is no religion in the world 
that has so developed self-sufficiency, intolerance and 
pride in its followers and so walled them off from 
everything that could enter from outside and contribute 
to their material and social and spiritual progress. 

The explanation of this intolerant unprogressive 
spirit is to be found in certain inconsistencies which 
seem to be inherent in the fundamental conceptions of 
Mohammedanism even when those conceptions are at 
their finest. No man who gets a glimpse of the splen- 


254 THE ARAB AT HOME 


did picture of the great omnipotent God of Mohammed 
can be otherwise than filled with admiration and even 
awe. It is one of the grandest conceptions of the hu- 
man mind. God is the governor of the external uni- 
verse, from the mosquito as it bites.a man to the swing 
of the stars in their orbits. He is the ruler in all hu- 
man affairs. The infant in arms and the greatest mon- 
arch in the world alike obey His omnipotent will. It is 
the picture written on the desert and in the stars, bound- 
less power, inscrutable, magnificent, ruthless, inaccessi- 
ble. God is bound by no limitations of the world which 
He created, nor of His own nature nor of anything 
else. A view of that picture is to the Arab the sum 
total of attainable wisdom. Its confession before the 
world is the fulfilment of every spiritual and ethical 
obligation. That picture has made the Arab superior 
to the bitterest poverty and the most demeaning sur- 
roundings. It has made him one of the bravest fighters 
on earth. It has driven race prejudice from his heart, 
a triumph unequalled by any faith or belief anywhere. 
It has made him the most determined believer in human 
equality in the world. 

But this splendid conception of God has certain de- 
fects and in practical life they do much harm. God 
is capricious and inconsistent. Like the Arab sheikh 
of whom He is a magnified reproduction, He may do 
good today and evil tomorrow, and to presuppose any 
limits to His behavior, even those dictated by a benev- 
olent nature, is to limit His omnipotence. An element 
of caprice is an essential part of the Arab idea of omni- 
potence, and a loophole is thus left for all sorts of in- 
consistencies of character, as witness the divine ap- 
proval of various transgressions of which Mohammed 


MOHAMMEDANISM 255 


was guilty. Furthermore, with all His omnipotence, 
God still has the mind and temper of a human sheikh, 
and rather a poor sheikh at that. The childishness 
and selfishness predicated of God are really astonishing 
considering the magnificence of His omnipotence. God 
is not interested in man’s happiness nor in his develop- 
ment. He is not greatly concerned over his ethical be- 
havior. The one thing that marks out a man for divine 
approval and eternal felicity, instead of divine wrath and 
eternal woe, is proper recognition of God’s unity and 
omnipotence and acknowledgement of them in the correct 
formulary way. Any man who so conforms is a delight 
to God’s heart. He may be decapitated for murder. 
He may die in jail for theft. For such trifles he will 
have to suffer certain purifying fires in Purgatory, but 
having responded with the correct formula, he is sure of 
an eternal place in the Garden of God. 

The effect of really believing such teaching can be 
imagined. Ewen the conception of human brotherhood 
does not work out as well in actual life as in theory. 
The world is divided into two classes, God’s favorites, 
who have rendered assent to the formula of belief, and 
infidels who have not. These latter deserve nothing bet- 
ter than death and torture eternally for hard-heartedly 
resisting and refusing to bow down. They have no 
rights whatever. In communities where a considerable 
portion of the population are one sort or another of tax- 
paying infidels, the resulting arrangement of society is 
about as undemocratic as government could well be. 
Throughout the Turkish empire Christian minorities 
have always paid large proportions of the taxes. They 
are called on for all sorts of civic duties. They have no 
share in the government and meet all manner of perse- 


256 THE ARAB AT HOME 


cution from insignificant insults to widespread massacre. 
The conquest of these hard-hearted infidels is the one 
straight road to the particular favor of God. 

It is something of an eye opener to an American to 
meet a religious fanatic from the desert. His hair is a 
densely populated city, and his bed and bedclothes con- 
stitute another city with a different population. This 
man has not had a bath quite possibly for months, but 
he strides into the market at Katif, we will say, with 
two sheep to sell, the poorest man in sight as far as the 
wealth of this world is concerned but much the most im- 
portant man in the city in his own estimation. He is 
told that the stranger whom he sees for the first time is 
from the land of the “Ingleez,” that he is a marvelous 
doctor whose treatment of the sick is little short of mir- 
aculous. He believes all this, believes too much by far, 
and readily assumes such a skill in this doctor as no 
surgeon ever possessed. Nevertheless, he looks upon the 
visitor with unconcealed contempt and strides down the 
street conscious of his inestimable superiority over such 
_a contemptible dog of an infidel. 

As might be expected, these true believers do not con- 
sider themselves recipients of special favor because they 
are God’s favorites. They conclude that they are 
actually the cream of the universe, essentially better than 
all other beings, demons, angels or men, because they 
have signified their acceptance of a philosophical concept. 
Such men want no instruction from the despised and 
contemptible infidel on subjects religious or secular. The 
pride and the intolerance thus developed can scarcely be 
matched in the world, and an almost immovable stagna- 
tion of society results. This intolerance and stagnation 
are made worse by the fact that Mohammedanism tends 


MOHAMMEDANISM 297 


to place all ethical values on outward appearances and 
ritual observances and ignores the motives that lie under- 
neath. Religion comes to be a set of forms to be gone 
through with. They may be sincerely performed, but 
they have little value in shaping character because they 
make no demands on the worshipper’s conscience. 

A second inconsistency similar to the intolerant perse- 
cution of infidels is the inclusion of slavery in the Mo- 
hammedan system. Scarcely anything could be imagined 
more opposed to the genius of Mohammedanism than for 
one believer to be held as the chattel slave of another. 
To keep an infidel as a slave might be open to less 
theoretical objections, but as a matter of fact the slaves 
are all Mohammedans, indeed they are almost compelled 
to be. A pious Mohammedan takes great pains with the 
religious education of his slaves, especially of the slave 
children. 

It is interesting to discuss the institution of slavery 
with earnest Mohammedans. Their progressive leaders 
frequently admit that slavery is inconsistent with the 
solidarity of Mohammedanism and apologize for it. 
Men of this type, however, are uncommon and such 
opinions are expressed in private. In public the insti- 
tution enjoys all the prestige that entrenched privilege 
enjoys everywhere, and any criticism of it in the gather- 
ings of the rich and the great calls forth the same 
horrified protests on the part of the beneficiaries of the 
present order as the advocacy of Bolshevism would pro- 
duce in a Wall Street office. Religion endorses it, the 
social order depends upon it, and the welfare of the slaves 
themselves demands it. The Sheikh of Abu Dhabi once 
spent the best part of half an hour explaining to me that 
the slaves who were freed lived under conditions far 


258 THE ARAB AT HOME 


worse in every way than those they had enjoyed while 
still slaves. The secret visitors who came at night to my 
room asking for assistance in running away did not hold 
his opinion. Indeed the poor fishermen of Bahrein have 
a clearer view in the matter. It is not hard for them to 
see that slavery is an iniquity. Moreover, Mohammed- 
anism itself in a curious way recognizes the evil of the 
system and makes it an act of great religious merit to 
purchase a slave and free him. This is frequently done, 
and all the Arab towns along the coast have their con- 
tingents of freed slaves. 

But the treatment of infidels and slavery itself are 
trifles compared with the injustice of the Moslem treat- 
ment of women. Mohammedanism may fairly claim 
to have triumphed over race prejudice and to have created 
the greatest internationalism in the world. It has 
triumphed over social and religious inequality and stands 
forth as a casteless system. But its triumph is illusory 
and its whole conception of a democratic society is ren- 
dered practically valueless by the fact that the female 
half of the population holds almost the status of pariahs 
with practically no rights at all. The appetites and pas- 
sions of men have triumphed over the philosophy of 
Mohammedanism, and the conquest has been complete. 
Women are recognized as possessing souls and may hope 
for a place in Heaven; there is no theoretical reason 
for considering them essentially inferior to men. But 
their position has not been fixed with reference to the 
religious philosophy of the Arab; it has been fixed by 
the strength of the lusts of his flesh. 

The second question that the biologist asks regarding 
any institution of human society concerns this matter of 


MOHAMMEDANISM 200 


the sex relationships that it fosters. Such relationships 
have played a large part in the processes of organic evolu- 
tion, and unquestionably they are a very important factor 
in the development of society now. The existence and 
spread of human life depend on our ability to extract 
subsistence from our external environment; progress de- 
pends on the relations between men and women in the 
propagation of the race. It is from the right sort of sex 
subsoil that we gain those ideals which make civilized man 
different from the savages—the ideal of truth, its majesty 
and power, and the necessity of bowing down to it wher- 
ever found, the ideal of beauty, its appreciation and the 
desire to create and develop it. 

Socially Mohammedanism’s worst failure is at this 
point. The Mohammedan system is nothing more nor 
less than unchecked promiscuity. It is true that the 
Bedouin community has remained monogamous in Arabia, 
but unforunately it is the indulgence of the oasis rather 
than the monogamy of the desert that tends to be carried 
by the system. Consequently women have almost no 
rights. <A little girl may be married to a man of sixty. 
Her place is an inferior one, and she is frequently beaten. 
Her duty is obedience, no matter how weak-minded her 
husband or how impossible his demands. A few indul- 
gent fathers have their daughters taught to read the 
Koran, but it would be fatal to a woman’s reputation to 
know how to write. She might write a letter to some one 
other than her own husband. Infraction of the moral 
code is for her a capital crime. For the man it is a 
minor offense. There are exceptions, and again it is 
in the desert that we most frequently find them, but 
taken as a whole, family life in Arabia is a very unlovely 


260 THE ARAB AT HOME 


thing to see. The husband dominates over his wife. 
She is his plaything, his slave almost. She is divorced 
at her husband’s whim, whereas only grave reason and 
legal process enable her to divorce him. All over Arabia 
a woman’s brother is her protector against an unreason- 
able husband. Children are indulged and neglected. 
Disease is rife. Cleanliness is unknown. But it is not 
altogether just to say that the resulting degradation of 
society is shared by both men and women and that there 
is no desire for anything better. Free divorce, in the de- 
moralized atmosphere of Mohammedan sex relationships, 
is popular with the men. It is not popular with the 
‘women. Some care must be exercised in interpreting 
motives under these circumstances, but there is no doubt 
at all that the Arab women dread divorce and that if 
they had their way, nine out of ten divorces would not 
take place. 

The essence of this great evil of Mohammedanism is 
not in unlimited divorce nor even in polygamous relation- 
ships, but rather in that unqualified naturalism which the 
system teaches and which is universal in Arabia among 
Bedouins as well as all other Arabs. The relations of the 
sexes are reduced to the level of eating and drinking. A 
man enjoys a new sort of potatoes every day; why should 
he not enjoy a new wife every day? This attitude is 
the blight which Mohammedanism has carried with it 
everywhere. 

It is obvious that personal character suffers irreparably 
under such a system, and that in both men and women. 
What is not quite so obvious at first sight is that all 
possibility of social progress is destroyed. Our civiliza- 
tion, such as it is, is built on the family. It is there 
that we have learned to cooperate to the small extent that 


MOHAMMEDANISM 261 


we are able to do so. That codperation is doubtless very 
imperfect, but on it as a foundation has been built the 
whole structure of modern civilization and further ad- 
vance waits for a better learning of that lesson. It is 
in the family that we have learned to treat each other as 
brothers, with some degree of love and forbearance. We 
have made only the most pitiful beginning, but even that 
little beginning is the most precious part of our present 
racial inheritance and the exact measure of our possible 
sociological advance. 

Now the Arab has not learned those lessons, and there- 
fore he cannot make much progress. Business partner- 
ships in the bazaars of Arabia are almost unknown, for 
nobody can be trusted in a business partnership. Father 
and son may be in business together, or even brothers 
sometimes, but anything beyond that is rarely seen. The 
Arab knows that, however fair his partner’s words, at 
the first opportunity he will rob him with no scruples 
whatever. In a community where such conditions pre- 
vail, modern civilization is not possible. 

The Mohammedan has not learned these lessons be- 
cause he has no home to learn them in. His mother, 
with whom he lives as a boy, is one, we will say, of four 
wives. Sometimes his father spends the night with her. 
If he makes a boast of his religious equality and justice 
in family life, he apportions his nights in strict rotation. 
The boy grows up in an atmosphere of intrigue and 
suspicion, the furthest possible remove from any idea of 
cooperation and brotherly love. The whole environment 
is charged with exaggerated sex desires, and at the age 
of twelve, he wants to get married. It is better that he 
should, for so worse evils are averted. He has no in- 
terest in education, nor have his parents any great interest 


262 THE ARAB AT HOME 


in it for him. He may learn to read the Koran and if he 
is especially fortunate he may go on to learn to write as 
well. But the home as we know it simply does not exist, 
and until it does, all hope for solid progress is futile. 


COA PEE Ree 


THE RELIGION OF WESTERN 
HEATHENISM: 


O description of the Arab is complete without 
N some account of the influence of western civili- 
zation. Among the Wahabis of inland Arabia 

this influence has been very slight. There the dress and 
food, the habits and thoughts of the present inhabitants 
are much the same as they were in the days of Abraham. 
The West is to them a myth and a fable, much as a fairy 
tale is tous. Throughout Mesopotamia, on the contrary, 
and in the coast cities along the Persian Gulf the in- 
fluence of the West has been very pervasive and power- 
ful. As in many other parts of the Orient, there is not a 
department of life where its influence has not been felt. 
We of the West understand less well perhaps than any 
other people on earth the nature of this tremendous struc- 
ture that we have raised, a structure of thought and 
culture and achievement that towers above everything else 
on this earth as the Woolworth Building would tower 
above the goat’s-hair tents of a Bedouin encampment. At 
home the structure is beautified by many lovely develop- 
ments, but in the East it stands forth naked and power- 
ful, and whatever other mistakes might be made concern- 
ing it, no one would be inclined to call it Christian. We 
have labelled it “‘western civilization,’ but that is a most 


inadequate designation. The East understands, if we do 
263 


264 THE ARAB AT HOME 


not, that it is not simply a civilization; it is a religion, 
the most powerful heathen religion in the world today. 

It is a religion in exactly the same sense that Buddhism 
or Mohammedanism is a religion. Mohammedanism is 
founded upon an underlying philosophy of the universe, a 
great overwhelming conception of God. Built upon this 
there are a system of ethics and a theory of human 
destiny, an organization of the family and a complete 
social structure. Thus religion in the Mohammedan’s 
mind is not simply a series of doctrines concerning the re- 
lations between God and man. Every human and social 
relationship is included, every governmental and _ in- 
dustrial organization, evéry physical and intellectual ac- 
tivity. Religion in the Arab’s mind is a complete system 
of life. 

The all-conquering heathenism from the West is a sys- 
tem just as complete as Mohammedanism. Its god is a 
ruthless, impersonal force, as unknowable and as heartless 
as a steam locomotive, a conception of God far inferior 
to that given to Arabia by Mohammed. Its sacred writ- 
ings are the discoveries and conclusions of a material- 
istic science and a pantheistic philosophy. It is not to 
be wondered at that, as the new conception displaces the 
old in the mind of the Arab, he feels that every glimmer 
of moral obligation and every distinction between right 
and wrong disappear. Granted the premise, his con- 
clusion is inevitable. 

This western system is penetrating gradually into the 
farthest corners of Arabia. Once the Arab has come 
into contact with the outside world, once he is educated, 
the system appears to have much the same power over 
him that Mohammedanism shows over the primitive mind. 
None of the primitive religions is able to stand before 


MUN AHL GNV GIO AHL 


‘0 mary auojskay © 








“WESTERN HEATHENISM” 265 


Mohammedanism, but Mohammedanism goes down be- 
fore this irresistible system. Before the war it was a 
pathetic thing to talk with the Turkish officers who were 
sent into Mesopotamia as administrators. During the 
day, when there were many to listen, these men were 
ardent Mohammedans, but at night when no one was near, 
they were open converts to Western Heathenism, the 
religion of materialism and self-indulgence. The same 
process can be seen at work in Mesopotamia now. Con- . 
tact with the great military and commercial power of the 
West has destroyed the faith of thousands in Mohammed 
and his system. That statement does not mean that they 
have become Christians. The Arab has a far poorer 
religion after the change, and a far worse character. 
The power of the system lies first of all in its appeal 
to the mind. To the Arab who has any education at all 
or has come into any considerable contact with the out- 
side world, its arguments seem absolutely conclusive and 
unanswerable. They need simply to be stated to carry 
conviction, and the more readily because the Arab has 
already seen enough of the world to undermine his con- 
fidence in his own religion. The great western system 
has penetrated the secrets of science. Out of the magic 
and fraud of alchemy it has erected the superb science 
of modern chemistry, perhaps its greatest single achieve- 
ment. However imperfectly the Arab may understand 
the methods of science, its results are patent and obvious. 
Most of all he is impressed by the fact that this is no 
matter of black magic, but that the door to similar knowl- 
edge and achievement is open to any one who wishes to 
enter. He realizes that the new system does in actual 
truth possess the key to great stores of knowledge that 
make the imaginings of his best sages seem like the 


i 
4 


266 THE ARAB AT HOME 


vain gibberish of an infant. He learns that what has 
been done in chemistry has been done in astronomy and 
physics and in every other department of human knowl- 
edge. No man can question that the great system from 
the West brings with it an ability to investigate and under- 
stand truth, and particularly the realities of our external 
environment, that is overwhelming. That fact stands 
out like a mountain. Even the fanatical Akhwan of the 
inland Arabian deserts realize as much as that. The 
Arab mind is essentially an investigative and truth-loving 
mind, and for the finer spirits among the race the great 
fascination of the new system is the opportunity it offers 
all who are willing to pay the price of diligence and 
patience, to share these treasures of scientific truth. 

But the greatest reason for the system’s power over 
the Arab mind is not its vast stores of knowledge, but its 
actual control of the forces of nature. The great argu- 
ment, after all, is not what the new system knows but 
what it can do. Great trains carrying hundreds of pas- 
sengers are pulled from one side of a continent to the 
other at forty miles an hour. Enormous steamers cross 
the ocean at a speed no less remarkable, with a comple- 
ment of crew and passengers equaling the population of 
a small Arab city. Office buildings stand forty stories 
high in New York. Automobiles are manufactured 
whose speed and endurance and comfort are such as no 
camel ever approached. A wireless station is erected in 
the Arab’s coast city and he sends a message to his friend 
in Bombay. Things such as these are final arguments. 
A system that can control the external world in this man- 
ner must be in accordance with the eternal realities. 

And this system does not waste itself in empty ex- 
hibitions of power. It ministers to human need and hu- 


“WESTERN HEATHENISM” 267 


man pleasure. It clothes men better than they were ever 
clothed before and feeds them better food. They live 
in better homes, and the child of the poorest citizen has 
all the treasures of knowledge and opportunity that the 
system possesses spread out before him in a free educa- 
tional system, so that nothing but his own incompetence 
and laziness need hold him back from any attainment 
whatever. | 

As for pleasure, who will enumerate the new appetites 
that have been discovered, together with the means for 
their gratification? Colors that no natural sources ever 
matched for brilliancy are produced in factories. Per- 
fumes new and powerful and exhilarating are imported 
in quantity. Cloth of a fineness and texture that no hand 
loom ever approached can be bought in every shop. Re- 
ceptions at night are illuminated by lamps that rival the 
sun’s own brilliance. Foods of new varieties are pro- 
duced. Not only can the palate be tickled by foods that 
are hot; there is also an infinite variety of ice creams that 
are cold. Previous to his acquaintance with the loco- 
motive and the automobile the Arab scarcely knew either 
the appetite for speed or its gratification. Now he knows 
both. There-is no system in the world that so ministers 
to pleasure and self-indulgence. It appeals to the Arab 
because it offers him what he wants above all things. He 
discovers new appetites to gratify and is given the means 
for their gratification. 

The political power which inheres in the system is an 
even greater attraction. The military might of the west- 
ern nations is the most outstanding fact of the present 
day, and the Arab smarts under a sense of inferiority and 
weakness. The feeling of equality with all the world is 
of the very fiber of his being, and there is nothing that he 


268 THE ARAB AT HOME 


resents more fiercely than being considered an inferior 
by any one. Unfortunately for his pride, there is noth- 
ing in the world more obvious just now than the fact 
of his very great inferiority both in military power and 
cultural advancement. The present fierce nationalism 
of Arabia and Mesopotamia is a reflection of this state 
of affairs. It is an effort to restore by violent assertion 
and brute force what is instinctively felt to have been 
temporarily lost. The increasing demand for western 
education in Mesopotamia is a more rational effort toward 
the same end, and will doubtless steadily increase as the 
present backward position of the Arab community be- 
comes apparent to larger and larger numbers. 

It is a remarkable fact that all over the East, and per- 
haps nowhere more than in Arabia, the war which served 
to demonstrate the pitiful weakness of the eastern nations, 
also produced such a fierce demand on their part for 
recognition as equals as the world never saw before. 
Thirteen years ago, when I first came into contact with the 
Arabs, any one of them was likely to assert cheerfully, 
“Just give us time, and the Mohammedans of the world 
will unite and conquer the whole of Christian Europe 
with no difficulty at all.” It was the naive assertion of 
easy and confident superiority. But the war was a great 
revelation, and now even the nomads of inland Arabia 
know that the whole strength of Arabia is like that of a 
company of grasshoppers in comparison with the military 
power of Europe. In those days there was no assertion 
of equality with the West. Superiors do not assert their 
equality with inferiors. The Arab has not been con- 
vinced of his inferiority; such a result would be beyond 
human imagination. But he certainly has been convinced 


“WESTERN HEATHENISM” 269 


of his backward condition, and his reaction to that uncom- 
fortable conviction has been violent. 

The system from the West, then, would seem to have 
proved irresistible, The nomad of inland Arabia is feel- 
ing its charm, and the educated Arab of the towns has 
adopted it bodily as the only possible means of meeting 
the impact of the hated West, whose strength he thus 
hopes to equal. Nevertheless, the system has some very 
grave limitations and weaknesses. 

In the first place, definite bounds are set to material 
progress in many sections by the non-productiveness of 
the land. In Arab communities, as elsewhere throughout 
the East, signs of material progress are increasingly in 
evidence. The effect of Westernism on the industrial life 
of the Arab has been most marked in Mesopotamia, but 
everywhere it has been perceptible. The bazaars of the 
Gulf ports are full of goods of European manufacture, 
and the people are gradually learning to demand many of 
the comforts and refinements of the West. But this prog- 
ress is limited in its future possibilities by the actual pro- 
ductive wealth of the country. In the Gulf ports it is 
limited by the value of the pearl catch, for as we had oc- 
casion to observe in the chapter on Mesopotamia, only 
the amount of commodities that is sent out of a commu- 
nity can be brought in, and no commercial skill can make 
the pearl catch greater. So also in the interior of Arabia, 
if some increased supply of water for irrigation or stock 
watering can be discovered, large progress can be made 
commercially and even industrially, but in the absence of 
any such productive discovery it is hard to see the pos- 
sibility of any substantial progress. Windmills and oil 
engines may improve matters a little, as also light motor 


270 THE ARAB AT HOME 


transport over the heavy sands of the interior country, 
but the only thing that can possibly produce any great 
result is more water to increase the crops that can be 
raised, or perhaps the discovery of some mineral wealth, 
of which there is now not the slightest prospect. 

Thus the gifts that Westernism can bestow upon the 
Arab, even in the way of material progress, are limited in 
scope. When it comes to the more intangible things, its 
inadequacy is much more apparent. As to ethics, the 
western system knows no duty except the duty of 
self-indulgence and enjoyment. “Every man for him- 
self and the devil take the hindmost.” This rule holds 
in personal relationships, in community life and above 
all in international diplomacy. However uncertain the 
Arab may be of the other elements of Western Heathen- 
ism, he is left in no doubt as to this. The great Powers 
of the West are gathered like a ring of vultures about 
China and Turkey and Russia and every other sick and 
dying nation in the world. Western business concerns 
practise this same doctrine. When the Standard Oil 
Company sent a cargo of kerosene up the Persian Gulf 
after the war, there was no inquiry as to the acute dis- 
tress that had been caused in the community by the long 
deprivation of what had become almost a life necessity. 
There was no attempt to set the price as a fair remunera- 
tion for the labor of producing and transporting the com- 
modity. The Company’s instructions to its agent were 
an everyday example of the ethics of Western Heathen- 
ism: ‘‘Put the price up just as high as the market will 
bear.” 

The only human destiny that this system knows is 
pleasure, pleasure now, in the only existence that we know 
anything about. Any idea of future existence with re- 





WESTERN CIVILIZATION 





“WESTERN HEATHENISM” cag 


wards and punishments is scoffed at. Perhaps nowhere 
is the new system more flatly and uncompromisingly in 
opposition to the old than here. The Arab is funda- 
mentally a religious man. Religion is the warp and woof 
of his life. And the whole genius of the Arab mind in 
religion lies along the line of interest in, and devotion to, 
the interests of the next world. In it human inequalities 
are to be levelled and human injustices corrected. 
Without it the universe has no moral meaning or con- 
sistency. But it is the genius of the new system to con- 
fine all thought and attention and effort to the affairs of 
this world. Moreover, religion, in the Arab mind and 
according to the genius of the race, demands a personal 
relation to a personal God. Such things the new system 
knows nothing about. 

It is on this account that we already see in Arabia large 
numbers who have accepted the materialistic world- 
philosophy of the West at the same time observing care- 
fully the forms, at least, of a personal religious faith. 
Such individuals represent a natural development which 
we may expect to see increase very markedly in the fu- 
ture. The human mind is capable of accommodating at 
one time very incompatible bedfellows, the Arab mind no 
less than our own. So we need not be surprised if the 
spread of western ideas concerning a materialistic uni- 
verse, concerning the human authorship of the Koran, 
concerning organic and social evolution, leaves the various 
Mohammedan religious services as well attended as ever. 

The western system is weak not only in its failure to 
provide for the satisfaction of the religous nature of the 
individual Arab; it is weak in that its system of sex 
relationships tends to deteriorate Arab society still fur- 
ther and to make progress out of the question. Only the 


272 THE ARAB AT HOME 


fact that Christianity has practically conquered heathen- 
ism in this field in the West has made our own progress 
possible. So far, the impact of the West on the East 
has pushed the level down rather than elevating it. Un- 
der the system of Western Heathenism sex relations fol- 
low an evenly balanced system of promiscuity more ir- 
regular and pernicious than that of Mohammedanism it- 
self. Personal gratification and indulgence are the only 
considerations. Equal freedom of choice and of change 
are accorded to men and women, and so in theory the 
rights of women are better preserved than under Moham- 
medanism. The interests of the children, however, are 
far worse neglected, and on the whole the Mohammedan 
plan is infinitely preferable. Westerners who blatantly 
advocate and openly practise the typical sex indulgence of 
Western Heathenism are too often the type of men sent 
out to the isolated posts of the East on our commercial 
errands. The influence of the German commercial rep- 
resentatives in the Gulf before the war was especially per- 
nicious. Germany at that time enjoyed great prestige. 
She was supposed to be the last word in military power 
and in scientific advancement. Many of her representa- 
tives were frank and unblushing in advocating and 
consistent in practising all the principles of unadulterated 
Western Heathenism. 

It must be said, however, that the West sends out to 
Arabia not only this type of man but also the Christian 
family, and practically always the Arab has both to ob- 
serve and study. The result is that in spite of the fact 
that we are frequently represented in the East by our 
worst elements and the average morality is far below 
what obtains at home, nevertheless even there the Chris- 
tian type of family life is to be found standing out in 


“WESTERN HEATHENISM” 273 


refreshing contrast to its heathen and Mohammedan en- 
vironment. The political agents that represent Great 
Britain throughout the Persian Gulf and elsewhere in 
Arabia are a splendid case in point. They would not feel 
themselves flattered to be termed missionaries, but the 
powerful Christian apologetic of a pure and lovely family 
life has been carried by them into many places where no 
missionary has ever worked. Unfortunately, however, 
although this example of the Christian family is present, 
the Arab usually finds the path opened up by Western 
Heathenism easier. 

Finally the social system of this Western Heathenism 
is an aristocracy, the worst in the world, the aristocracy 
of self-indulgence. It is an aristocracy first of power and 
then of pleasure. The ability of an individual to domi- 
nate over his fellow men and to utilize their labors for his 
own enjoyment and self-indulgence constitutes him one 
of the élite, a member of the ruling class. It is a sorry 
substitute that is thus offered to the Arab in the place of 
his own social system where every man in the desert 
is the equal of every one of his brothers, where men look 
on the indulgences of this world with contempt and find 
the high exercise of their spirits in Liberty, Equality, 
Fraternity and Hospitality. 

But in spite of all these contagious evils that western 
civilization brings in its train, this impact of the West 
upon the East is inevitable, and even desirable. The 
blessings that modern science brings with it are for no 
nation alone. They belong to the whole world. Even- 
tually we must hope that this new truth, and the new 
power that comes with it, will be organized and directed 
by Christianity rather than by the Western Heathenism 
which contends with Christianity for the possession of the 


274 THE ARAB AT HOME 


world. But any idea of isolating the East from the in- 
fluence of the West is a futile dream, as impossible as to 
isolate her from our common atmosphere. The only pos- 
sible question is that of method. How can the knowledge 
and progress and blessings of the West be best brought 
to the East and imparted to our brothers and sisters in 
that part of the world? 

The whole effort to coerce the East into accepting 
Westernism is on trial, and the outcome is doubtful. 
Before the war it seemed inevitable that western civiliza- 
tion should swallow up everything and spread over the 
whole world. Since the war its progress has not been 
so satisfactory. The imperialistic ambitions of Germany 
and Russia have been abandoned completely, and those of 
France and Great Britain have been materially modified. 
They are too expensive. ‘Turkey has thrown back west- 
ern civilization from parts of the Near East, and no one 
knows how far this movement will go. What would be 
for the best throughout the East is obscure enough. 
What is going to happen is absolutely beyond conjecture. 
As the Arab puts it, “The future is in the hands of God.” 


CHAPTER XV 
CHE ARAB ANDI CHRISTIANITY: 


HE globe trotter sees the Arab as a hopelessly 
dirty individual and his community as a hope- 
lessly primitive stagnant society, in which even 
the desire for improvement is lacking. The man who 
has lived in Arabia long enough to see things as they are 
has a very different viewpoint. The society in which he 
is immersed and which he has come to love is made up 
of men and women of abilities equal to his own. In 
some ways they are his superiors. In gifts of personality 
they stir his deepest admiration. More loyal friends are 
to be found nowhere. Nothing should be impossible for 
such men and for a society made up of them. 

But on prolonged acquaintance nothing is more obvious 
than the fact that many things are impossible for them. 
In the days of Abraham the inhabitants of Arabia lived 
the same lives and ate presumably the same food, wore 
the same clothes and thought the same thoughts as they do 
today. Their store of knowledge has not increased. 
Their appreciation of beauty is no finer. The satisfaction 
afforded by their contracted and poverty-bitten lives is no 
greater now than it was then. It is not that progress has 
been slow. ‘There has been no progress. We have dis- 
cussed the causes for this stagnation in previous chapters, 
and it is not necessary to elaborate upon the subject again. 


From their environment, from their racial endowment, 
275 


Abeba LPP 


San neers: 


ALG THE ARAB AT HOME 


from their religion, these men have gained such a conceit, 
such an impenetrable self-satisfaction, as makes them not 
only perfectly content with their present condition but 
impatient of all suggestions of change. From the fiery 
depths of their nature, with the acquiescence and endorse- 
ment of their religion, they have been overcome and 
wrecked by sex appetite. It is these two things that have 
destroyed personal character and chained society down at 
a level nearly as low as that of African savages. 

If there is one thing that seems absolutely certain it is 
this, that the men and women of Arabia need something 
that will change, not their external environment, but their 
own inner selves. Meeting the situation by a mere im- 
provement of external environment or by education 
which makes that environment more plastic under their 
hands is futile. The real needs of the Arab are the 
softening of that limitless self-satisfaction and conceit 
-which shut him out from all sorts of progress, and a con- 
trol over his tremendous sex appetite strong enough to 
change that endowment from an almost hopeless handi- 
cap into a source of inestimable power. Now the mis- 
sionary believes that Christ came to the world for just 
that purpose and that He is as able to do this for the Arab 
as He has proved Himself able to do it for us. It 1s 
Christ’s teaching and example and His power and com- 
panionship that have given us such freedom as we en- 
joy and such power for cooperation and progress as our 
very imperfect society has exhibited. There may be 
those who deny Christ’s ability to transform men and 
women into His own image, but no one who is acquainted 


_ with the Arab and with Arab society can question that 


_ just such a transformation is the Arab’s one need, with- 
out which his future is almost hopeless. 


THE ARAB AND CHRISTIANITY 277 


The missionary is not simply certain that the Arab 
needs Christ; he also feels confident that Christ is ade- 
quate for the needs of Arabia. He believes that Christ’s 
contribution to his own life has been made not to those 
superficial fractions of his personality in which he differs 
from the Arab and the Chinese and the Indian, but 
rather to those fundamental elements of his soul which 
are alike in all men, and that it is therefore essentially 
just as well fitted to the Arab as to the Westerner. This 
conviction deepens as his acquaintance with the Arab 
increases. There is something in the simplicity and sin- 
cerity of the Arab character, especially that of the desert 
Bedouin, which corresponds most beautifully with the 
utter simplicity and contempt of subterfuge which 
marked Christ’s character and teachings. Some time it 
will be realized that the Arab’s character is far more 
closely adapted to the teachings of Christ than is our 
own. In the intensity of his religious nature, too, the 
Arab is a much more promising subject than is the West- 
erner. With all the opportunities that we have enjoyed, 
religion is one of life’s trifles to most of us. Whatever 
bad things are to be said of the Arab, that is not one of 
them. 

The missionary enterprise does not aim to supplant 
modern education; it aims to supply the only foundation 
which will make that education effective. It does not op- 
pose the introduction of modern civilization into non- 
Christian lands such as Arabia, but works instead to cre- 
ate a personal character that will make possible the devel- 
opment. of a civilization that shall be at the same time 
modern and indigenous—a development of the racial en- 
dowment of the Arab, and not built on its destruction. 
American missionaries are not trying to westernize the 


278 THE ARAB AT HOME 


Arab; their whole effort is pointed in exactly the opposite 

direction. We hope to see the Arab a better Oriental, a 

more uncompromising Arab and a keener nationalist as 

a Christian than he was before. We do not want to 

change his food, or his clothes, or his house. We do not 

want to alter his modes of thought. We are not trying 

to revise his social structure. It is true that Arab so- 
_ ciety will have to be revised, but that 1s no part of our 
task. It is not adequately realized how futile and childish 
is the notion that we can go out to an oriental country 
and usefully direct any task of social reconstruction. In 
his enthusiastic conceit, the Westerner is apt to imagine 
himself competent to revise the social order of the world. 
There are a good many things that might be said about 
such an idea. One of them is that a little better success 
in correcting our own imperfections at home would add to 
the world’s confidence in our skill. But that is not the 
real reply. The only men competent to revise the social 
order in China are the Chinese. The only ones competent 
for that task in India are the Indians. The only men who 
can be trusted to do it for Arabia are the Arabs. The 
less help those men get from the West, the better off they 
will be. 

The missionary’s contribution is thus a very simple 
contribution. He is not interested in widening the 
boundaries of any western church. He does not expect 
that the Christianity which will eventually take root in 
Arabia will develop along the lines that it has followed in 
America. He does not care what form it takes, except 

hat it be a natural and indigenous form. The mission- 
Vary carries the teaching and the example of Christ. He 

believes that this simple contribution is sufficient to re- 
deem the individual Arab from powerful appetites and 


ul 


THE ARAB AND CHRISTIANITY 279 


from impenetrable conceit and to place the Arab race on 
the road toward a modern indigenous civilization that 
will be one of the finest in the world’s history. 

In spite of its geographical proximity to the birthplace 
of the Christian religion, Arabia has remained for the 
most part strangely untouched by nineteen centuries of 
Christianity. The explanation of this fact is not so diff- 
cult as might at first be supposed. The history of mis- 
sionary work in ‘Arabia begins with the visit of the Apos- 
tle Paul, which is mentioned in the Epistle to the Gala- 
tions. Where he went or what he did, we do not know, 
nor is there any reason to suppose that a church was 
founded at that time. It is probable that he saw only the 
northernmost part of Arabia and went more as a visitor 
than as a Christian worker. Neither in ancient nor in 
modern times has any trace been found of work done by 
him on this visit. The tremendous vitality and mission- 
ary zeal of the early Christians, however, did not over- 
look so close a neighbor, and in 325 a.p. six Arabian 
bishops are mentioned as present in the Nicene Council. 
The northern Arab tribe of Ghassan appears to have be- 
come quite completely Christian during these early cen- 
turies. Palmyra, a city whose ruins still remain in the 
northern part of the Syrian desert, was one of the centers 
of Christianity in Arabia during this time. 

To the south an even stronger foothold was gained in 
Yemen, and by the end of the fifth century Christianity 
was the official religion of the province. It was not 
strictly an indigenous faith, for it was associated with the 
political domination of that part of the peninsula by the 
king of Abyssinia. In Sanaa, the capital city, there was 
built a great cathedral whose foundations have endured 
to this day. About the time of Mohammed’s birth, war 


280 THE ARAB AT HOME 


broke out between this Abyssinian ruler and the powerful 
tribe of the Koreish, whose capital was at Mecca. An 
ill-advised expedition against Mecca was successful at 
first, but afterwards in the mountain defiles close to the 
city, the Yemen army was cut to pieces. The power of 
the Christian government in Sanaa was broken by this de- 
feat, and fifty years later the tremendous flood of Mo- 
hammedanism washed away the last traces from that cor- 
ner of Arabia. 

Nothing is known definitely of any other significant 
center of Christianity in Arabia during these early days. 
The peninsula as a whole appears to have been quite un- 
touched. The inhabitants of Oman, however, point out 
to travelers certain caves which they say were the abodes 
of monks and Christian hermits in the “days of ignor- 
ance,’ that is in the time before Mohammed. Certain 
mosques, too, they are sure were Christian churches long 
ago. We may eventually find that a third center of 
Arabian Christianity existed in Oman in the pre-Islamic 
days. 

The most melancholy part of this chapter of Christian 
history is not the fact that these churches were later wiped 
out by Mohammedanism, but rather the inferior nature 
of the churches that thus disappeared. Christianity made 
no greater headway against the local idolatries of that 
time because it was so mixed with idolatry and selfishness 
and corrupt beliefs and practices that there was no reason 
why it should. To the Semitic mind loosely attached to 
an unsatisfactory idolatry, real Christianity should have 
made a very great appeal. Unfortunately it was not real 
Christianity that was offered to Arabia at that time. It 
was an alternative idolatry. 

Exactly what might have been expected happened. A 


THE ARAB AND CHRISTIANITY 281 


religion suddenly appeared which was adapted to the 
Semitic mind, which repudiated idolatry and insisted on 
an uncompromising monotheistic faith. The idolatrous 
and inconsistent Christianity of the peninsula disappeared 
before the great flood just like the other idolatries. To- 
day no trace of it is left. The mere strength of Mo- 
hammedanism is hardly an adequate explanation of that 
complete disappearance. Further north, in Asia Minor, 
Christianity did not completely vanish under similar cir- 
cumstances. In Mesopotamia, Zoroastrianism has per- 
sisted in a small community to the present day. The 
reason why nominal Christianity disappeared when the 
religion of Mohammed was introduced was that real 
Christianity had disappeared long before. 

It was about seven hundred years after the establish- 
ment of Mohammedanism as the dominant religion of 
Arabia that a missionary of the Christian Church first 
began work for Moslems. Raymon Lull, the famous _ 
Catalan mystic, died as a martyr in North Africa in 1315. | 
His was a voice crying in the wilderness. So far as we 
can tell, there were no permanent results from his brief 
missionary career, either in the establishment of Chris- 
tianity among the Mohammedans of Africa or in the 
awakening of a corrupt and degenerate church in Europe. 
It was five hundred years more before the church 
roused herself to any real effort for Mohammedans. 
Henry Martyn, previously a missionary to India, worked 
among the Arabs in 1812, and although it is not possible 
to point to any permanent results of his activity, he was 
the pioneer in an effort that has steadily gathered momen- 
tum since and is now one of the church’s major mis- 
sionary projects. 

Baghdad has been the commercial and political center 


282 THE ARAB AT HOME 


of Mesopotamia and northern Arabia for centuries, and 
there missionary work was first begun. Throughout the 
first eighty years of the last century there was a succes- 
sion of workers in that city, and in 1882 the Church Mis- 
sionary Society, a British organization, opened up per- 
manent medical and evangelistic work there. However, 
the outstanding figure of this period, the man who comes 
next in the honor roll after Raymon Lull and Henry — 
Martyn, is Cornelius Van Dyck of Syria, who in 1865 
completed an Arabic translation of the Bible which for 
purity and accuracy stands as a classic. It has been the 
foundation of missionary work in Arab countries ever 
since. 

About thirty years after the completion of Van Dyck’s 
translation, Ion Keith-Falconer began work in Yemen 
as a medical missionary under the Free Church of Scot- 
land. He lived to do only a few months’ work, dying in 
1887, but his judgment as to the best way to reach the 
Mohammedans has been followed and Sheikh Othman, 
the mission station which he founded just outside Aden, 
has been a center of light ever since. At present it has 
a large and flourishing medical work as well as an active 
evangelistic staff. Thus it was the Scotch Free Church 
that began the work in the Arabian peninsula itself, but 
the brunt of the campaign was not to be borne by the 
Scotch. In 1889 the Arabian Mission was founded in 
Americas a it began as an independent project but from 
the first had close ties with the Reformed Church and 
was later taken into that body as one of its official mis- 
sions. The Arabian Mission had as its object the prose- 
cution of missionary work in the whole peninsula, and it 
was the original intention to begin work both on the Red 
Sea coast and on the shores of the Persian Gulf. Thus 





THE KUWAIT MISSION SCHOOL 





A COLPORTEUR AT WORK 





THE ARAB AND CHRISTIANITY = 283 


far a limited staff has kept its effort confined to the East 
Coast. 

At about this same time Bishop Thomas Valpy French 
of the Church of England, who had done pioneer service 
as the first bishop of Lahore, started work in Muscat, 
the seaport city of Oman. There is something heroic in 
the splendid effort of that veteran missionary, then an old 
man, to establish missionary work in the almost impos- 
sible field of Muscat. Like Keith-Falconer’s, his service 
lasted only a few months, and in 1891 he died. His 
grave 1s in a barren rocky cove near Muscat, the city of 
his last love. His own church did not feel able to fol- 
low up the work which he began, and his mantle fell on 
the American project. 

This organization, known officially as “the Arabian 
Mission,” has been at work for thirty-three years. Since 
the Great War the Church Missionary Society, hard 
pressed with other responsibilities, has withdrawn from 
Baghdad, and thus the entire task of carrying the Chris- 
tian message to the Arabs devolves upon the Arabian 
Mission together with the somewhat weaker mission of 
the Scotch Free Church founded by Keith-Falconer. The 
American Mission, after many vicissitudes in its early 
days, has grown until its missionaries now number 
thirty-six and include medical, educational and evangel- 
istic workers for both men and women. 

The task of the missionary is a simple task, and his 
methods are simple methods. In the days when I was 
studying Arabic, I once learned a great deal about mis- 
sionary method in a very few minutes. As part of my 
language work I was taking a two weeks’ trip in a 
mahella, or river sail boat, on the Tigris River. The 
captain and I came to be very good friends. One day 


284 THE ARAB AT HOME 


he turned to me during some conversation and, speaking 
with great emphasis, banged with his fist on the deck. 
“You,” he said, “you, we have no great objection to you, 
but the English, we hate the English.” 

“So,” J mildly inquired, “why do you hate the 
English ?”’ 

“Oh,” he repeated, “‘we hate them.” 

“Yes,” I replied, “I understood what you said the first 
time you said it, but why do you feel that way about 
them ?” 

“We hate them,” said he, “because they treat us like 
dogs.” 

I knew the man well and I took up the debate with 
some warmth. “That is not true and you know it. They 
do not treat you like dogs. When they have a chance, 
they furnish you with a good government. As business 
men they do not cheat you.” 

His reply was a good deal of a surprise. ‘We know 
all that. We know it better than you do. They do not 
accept bribes as government officials. As business men 
they are honest. They do not run away with other men’s 
wives. But,’ and here he pounded on the deck with his 
fist once more, “‘we hate them just the same.” 

“What is the matter with your’ I asked. “What 
makes you feel so?” 

My friend then softened his indictment, softened it in 
content but not at all in intensity. ‘‘We hate them be- 
cause they think they are better than we are. They look 
down on us.” 

Unfortunately that was a statement that could not be 
denied. Whether it is Great Britian in Mesopotamia or 
ourselves in the Philippines, the essence of colonial ad- 
ministration is the division of humanity into two castes, 


THE ARAB AND CHRISTIANITY 285 


an upper caste which rules and a lower caste which is 
ruled. It is no part of the purpose of this book to out- 
line correct policies for colonial government, but of one 
thing we can be certain, missionary work cannot be done 
in any such way. We have emphasized a great many 
things in preparing candidates for missionary work; the 
most important thing of all is rarely mentioned. As far 
as method is concerned, the one essential is keeping our- 
selves and our message free from any taint of race prej- 
udice and race pride and approaching the Arab on the 
level of simple democratic equality. 

' That same trip afforded an excellent example of the 
point under discussion. The boatmen were Shiah Mo- 
hammedans. The Shiah is less fanatical than some other 
Mohammedans in many things, but in the matter of eat- 
ing with infidels he is the most extreme of all. There are 
no knives and forks and spoons on sucha trip. Men eat 
with “the five,” that is the five fingers, and they would al- 
most as soon a dog came and put his nose into the com- 
mon dish as that a filthy infidel Christian put his hand in. 
At that time I was beginning the study of Arabic, and the 
customs and state of mind of my hosts were a closed 
book. All I knew was that my food was served on a 
separate tin dish off in one corner. I concluded that this 
was a special honor because they considered me too good 
to eat with them. I did not know enough Arabic to ex- 
plain that I desired no such honor and so I had no choice 
but to eat out of my small tin dish. 

But my chance came one day when we tied up at a 
small village along the river bank and after exploring 
the town I came back on board just at the time of the 
evening meal. The men were sitting down to a savory 
dish of Arab bread and gravy. As I passed the group 


286 THE ARAB AT HOME 


one of them said with the utmost cordiality, “Bismillah 
tafaddul,” meaning, “Sit down and eat with us.” Now 
the correct thing to do, of course, was to decline courte- 
ously and go off to eat by myself in the corner. But I 
did not know that, and accepted the invitation with 
alacrity. Of the dozen men around the great dish only 
one rose to leave as J sat down. By the time that I 
landed in place, I think he was six inches off the ground. 
The rest of the men laughed at him. “You do not want 
to eat with the Sahib? All right, go off and eat by your- 
self, then. We will eat with him.’ And we had a most 
cordial meal together. All the religious bigotry and 
fanaticism and carefully nurtured prejudices of a thou- 
sand years had been wiped out by the simple democratic 
friendship of a week. 

Many of the peninsular Arabs are very fanatical ; in this 
regard the equal of the inland tribes could hardly be found 
anywhere, but I have never met an Arab who was immune 
to this approach, never one with whom it was not pos- 
sible to be friends inside of a week or ten days. Perhaps 
the most intractable specimen that we ever treated in the 
Bahrein Hospital remained frozen in his shell of dignity 
and hostility for ten days. He was operated on for 
hernia and during the first week would scarcely speak 
to any one. If a missionary came into the far corner of 
the room where he, along with half a dozen other patients, 
was lying, he considered it necessary to protect both his 
eyes and ears from pollution. He would sit there as long 
as the objectionable presence was in the room, his back 
to the intruder, repeating an orthodox religious phrase, 
“Istighfar allah, istighfar allah (Beg forgiveness of 
God).” Sometimes I would remain a long time convers- 
ing with one of the other patients just to see if I could 


THE ARAB AND CHRISTIANITY = 287 


wear him out, but he always wore me out and invariably 
I left him actively protecting himself. He would con- 
verse with no one. I had operated on him and it might 
be supposed that he would talk with the doctor. But he 
wouldn’t. “Are you all right this morning?” ‘A grunt 
of assent. “Any pain today?” Brief grunt of negation. 
A man with the smallpox he would not have considered 
half so dangerous. Finally, however, during his second 
week we became good friends, and just before his dis- 
charge he even volunteered his services as the official 
guide of the infidel doctor’s caravan on a proposed trip 
into his own country. The offer meant personal unpop- 
ularity. It meant being called “Infidel” and “Dog’’ by 
all the little girls of his tribe. It meant that the little 
boys would throw stones as he went by. It meant that 
the men would turn their faces away as he passed and 
say “Bismillah el rahman el rahim,’ or “There goes that 
filthy dog who is servant to the infidel.” It might easily 
mean personal danger. Weeks and months would pass 
before he would be restored to his place in society. 
There are no finer friends in the world than Arabs, and 
I have yet to meet an Arab who cannot be won as a friend 
if he is approached on the basis of simple democratic 
friendship. But this is not always an easy thing to do. 
It means inviting Arab friends to enjoy one’s hospitality 
whenever the occasion offers and accepting their own 
invitations in return. A caravan traveling through the 
desert in the winter starts out from its night camp two 
hours before the sun gets up and travels steadily for the 
whole day. Half an hour before sunset the caravan 
leader selects a place for the next night’s camp where fuel 
is available. Every one brings his camel up to the camp- 
ing spot, and after dismounting and removing the camel’s 


288 THE ARAB AT HOME 


load, each rider starts out to hunt for fuel. One brings 
back some dry weeds; another finds a few dry twigs on a 
discouraged, stunted tree in the distance; another some 
dried camel manure, the remains of a previous encamp- 
ment. Soon there is a fine bonfire. But there is one 
man who does not go off to hunt for fuel. He is the 
caravan cook, and it is his duty to make baking powder 
biscuits for supper. He takes his saddle upon which he 
has been riding all day,-a thick, hairy piece of goatskin, 
and turns it wrong side up on the sand. This puts the 
hair side down and the skin side up. He beats it in the 
middle with his fist, and thus makes a dish out of it. 
Into this dish is poured a certain amount of flour and a 
certain number of cups of water, and the whole is kneaded 
into a dough and patted into the shape of a large pan- 
cake, the size of a large dinner plate and an inch or an 
inch and a quarter thick. It is just as nice and light as 
a brick or a paving stone. The bonfire has burned down 
to ashes by this time and the baking powder biscuit is 
put into these ashes and left to bake for perhaps twenty 
minutes. Then it is taken out and kneaded a second 
time with some clarified butter and a few dates, or it may 
be eaten as it is without this second kneading. 

Now, of course, if the missionary prefers, he can sit 
off by himself and eat a sardine out of a tin can, granted 
that he has a tin can along with a sardine in it, but the 
way to get acquainted with the Arab is to sit in the 
circle around the fire and eat what he eats and enjoy it. 
A little Bohemianism of soul is almost a necessity for a 
missionary in Arabia. It may be necessary to pray for 
a zinc-lined and copper-riveted stomach. If so he prays 
for it. After the first course of baking powder biscuits 
is finished, a bonbon course may be served. Roasted lo- 


THE ARAB AND CHRISTIANITY 289 


custs do not look very appetizing. Indeed they look very 
much otherwise, but they taste better than they look. We 
do not have roasted locusts every year in Arabia, but 
when we have them, we have lots of them, and they are 
likely to be served on every occasion. In such years the 
locusts may come over the country in great clouds and the 
sun be obscured by them for two or three days. Wher- 
ever they alight they eat up every green thing, leaving 
the ground as bare as a cement walk. A strong wind 
drifts these locusts much as it would drift dead leaves, 
and the desert nomads go out and gather them by the 
bushel, indeed by the ton. They are roasted in ordinary 
Arab ovens and are for sale in every bazaar in that part 
of the country. And when roasted locusts are served, 
the thing to do is to eat roasted locusts. The man next 
to him has taken twelve, so the missionary takes six. A 
roasted locust is seized amidships. His wings are pulled 
off, as also his bony hind legs. Nobody eats them. 
His head is pulled out by the roots, and what remains is 
eaten. It tastes much better than it sounds. Much 
better than raw oysters, I am sure. 

After the evening meal is finished, there is an oppor- 
tunity for stories, and quite certainly, as each one in the 
circle contributes his yarn, the missionary will be asked 
for a story too. “You have listened to stories from our 
country,—tell us a story from your country.” It is well 
to have a story ready for just such emergencies. One 
which I frequently use concerns an old colored man in 
the South whose friend died. At the request of relatives 
he sat up with the corpse. It was a hot night and so he 
decided to sit outside in the open air next to the kitchen. 
There had been a balloon ascension in a town not far 
from there, and the wind coming up suddenly had blown 


290 THE ARAB AT HOME 


the balloon away from its moorings. As the aviator 
sailed over the country he hung out an anchor in the 
hope of catching a house or a tree or something of the 
sort. ‘The anchor caught up the colored man sitting just 
outside the kitchen, and he was carried off through the 
air praying in great terror, “Oh Lord, it ain’t me, it ain’t 
me—the corpse is inside, the corpse is inside.’ Many an 
Arab camp out under the stars of the desert has voted that 
a first-class story. No one believes it. True stories are 
not expected around a camp fire of that sort. Such a 
rule would cramp the prevalent style hopelessly. But it 
has served many times as an acceptable contribution to 
the evening’s entertainment. 

This approach on the basis of simple, unaffected, demo- 
cratic equality is ninety per cent of missionary method. 
Associating with the Arabs in this way, you may easily 
meet them and have them meet you as warm friends, and 
many details take care of themselves. The Arab is not 
concerned about foreign clothes. He is not anxious 
that we should live in houses that resemble his own. He 
emphasizes these external things as little as we. What he 
wants is a genuine feeling of equality, a genuine freedom 
from that attitude of haughty superiority which is so 
common among Westerners as to be almost universal. 

In the missionary’s search for a method of bringing 
Christ and His message to the Arab, this friendliness is 
the first and most important step. It is by means of 
genuine contact of one friend with another that the Arab 
is brought into contact with Christ. This spirit under- 
lies the entire program of the Arabian Mission. More 
specifically the work of the Mission is divided into three 
distinct tasks. The first is the penetration of territory 
and the establishment of mission stations throughout the 


THEVARAB AND; CHRISTIANITY 291 


peninsula. We are still confined to the East Coast, 
and thus far it has been impossible to secure the necessary 
permission to establish missionary work in the inland 
cities. Arabia will never be evangelized by, missionaries 
located along the coast. We must gain an entrance in- 
land and carry Christ’s message to the entire country. 

It should be emphasized that it is not the caprice of 
rulers, neither indigenous Arab sheikhs nor Turkish and 
British deputies, that prevents our entrance. Until very 
recently practically the whole population of the inland 
country was fanatically determined to keep us out. The 
missionary has no weapons to force an entrance except 
prayer and friendly service. He is not able, nor does he 
wish, to enter a place until he is invited. So the method 
of procedure has been to work out from a base hospital 
and school and evangelistic station on the coast and grad- 
ually so to commend ourselves to the people that our pres- 
ence inland is desired. This has been a slow method, but 
time has demonstrated its wisdom. Moreover, it is the 
only possible method. It is almost past imagination that 
a missionary could persuade a local Turkish administrator 
to compel an unwilling population to accept his presence 
and work. It is even less possible with a British adminis- 
trator. Frequently, long after the people would welcome 
a medical missionary with cordiality, the more timid civil 
administrator refuses to permit the missionary’s residence 
in the country in question. It is sometimes difficult to 


be properly patient under such circumstances, but as al- / 


ways the man who can wait is the man who wins. The 
people get what they want in Arabia. No ruler in the 
world shows a greater sensitiveness to the popular will 
than the Arab sheikh, and Turkish or British administra- 
tors are sure to hear that voice eventually and to obey its 


292 THE ARAB AT HOME 


mandate. So the Mission’s policy has been to gain the 
good will of the people by steady thorough medical work, 
by educational institutions and by a quiet uncompromis- 
ing evangelistic campaign. There has never been any 
effort to enlist a particle of government assistance. No 
Arab chief has ever felt that refusal to admit the mission- 
ary would compromise his position with any western 
Power, or work to his detriment commercially to the 
smallest degree. Carried on in this way, the Mission’s 
progress in gaining an entrance to the inland country has 
not been rapid, but it has been steady and there have been 
no withdrawals after entrance because of hostile public 
sentiment. 

The second task of the Mission is overcoming prej- 
udice and misunderstanding and gaining a hearing. Our 
task is only begun when we secure permission to estab- 
lish work in a new city or province. The people value 
medical work and it is that which most frequently opens 
new territory. A little later they learn to value educa- 
tional work. Even the evangelistic missionary is even- 
tually made welcome because of his obvious good inten- 
tions and practical benevolence. But the missionary is 
there for a definite purpose. He desires to bring Christ’s 
message to these people. Once he is established, his 
whole object is to get them to listen to it and understand 
it. 

This is a task of years. In accomplishing it our most 
powerful instrument is the example of Christian family 
life lived in full view of the people. It must be a family 
life which all can see and in which they can participate 
through the give and take of neighborly hospitality. I 
have talked with many Arabs and found them exceedingly 
averse to conceding that anything western could be supe- 


THE ARAB AND CHRISTIANITY 293 


rior to their own system, but I think I have never talked 
with an Arab who did not admit the superiority of our 
family system and family life to his own. Here is a 
woman who has never been beaten by her husband. 
Nevertheless, she is faithful and devoted to him. Here 
is a man who orders his household well. He has but 
one wife and a creditable number of children. Some 
of them are boys. His wife walks with him in the street 
and even precedes him when they go single file. Grad- 
ually there develops a willingness to listen to what such 
strangers have to say, even on matters of religion. 

Next to the influence of the missionaries’ family life, 
the most effective means of getting acquainted is the work 
of the mission hospitals. In the days of the Baghdad 
Caliphs Arabia had the best medicine in the world, but 
that was a long time ago. Arabia has no medical pro- 
fession now; men and women and children sicken and 
die with only such relief as motherly or sisterly or wifely 
affection can furnish. In such circumstances the work of 
a well-conducted hospital makes a tremendous impression. 
The doctor gives instructions as to boiling water, cooking 
food, fly protection, and a cholera epidemic stops as sud- 
denly as if a miracle had occurred. Men come to the 
hospital with a strangulated hernia or with some acute 
abdominal condition and are brought back from the very 
jaws of death. Friends look on while tumors are re- 
moved from the abdomen with no pain and prompt re- 
covery follows. There is no controverting an apologetic 
of that sort. 

If the doctor can add to his professional skill an un- 
failing human sympathy and personal interest and a sim- 
ple, unaffected, democratic approach, he becomes almost 
irresistible. ‘The Arab responds not simply with respect 


294 THE ARAB AT HOME 


but with sincere admiration and warm regard. ‘There is 
practically no door that such a physician cannot enter. 
He can present and explain Christ’s teachings to every 
one of his hospital patients. He can associate on terms 
of friendly equality even with the fanatical Akhwan. 
In twelve years’ experience I have never met a patient 
with whom it was impossible to do this sort of personal 
Christian work. Old patients from our hospitals are 
vigorous defenders of the missionary’s good name every- 
where. As a man once assured me, ‘Even if you are 
infidels you are still good people.’ To be received en- 
thusiastically in a strange and hostile town by a friend 
and former hospital patient is an experience that warms 
the cockles of one’s heart. 

The method of the missionary is simple, unaffected, 
democratic equality; his message is the example and 
teachings of Christ with no adulterations from the West 
mixed into it. Thus defined, missionary work seems a 
very simple thing. It is simple, but the question of how 
to present the message is sometimes very difficult. There 
has been far too little effort to determine the best method 
of presenting Christ’s message to the Arab mind. In 
1907 a very striking book appeared from the pen of Dr. 
Warneck of the South Sea Islands, entitled, “The Living 
Christ and the Dying Heathenism.” As the result of 
twenty years’ study and work Dr. Warneck decided that 
the best way to present the Christian message to the 
people of his field was to call their attention to the fact 
that one who follows Christ does not have to be afraid 
of evil spirits. This may seem a somewhat abbreviated 
Gospel, but as an introductory contact it was the most 
effective that he was able to discover. Such a contact 
promised us nothing in Arabia, for the orthodox Arabs 


THE ARAB AND CHRISTIANITY 295 


are not particularly afraid of evil spirits, but the book 
did afford a very useful idea. What is the best way to 
present Christ to the Arabs? No one seemed to know, 
so we decided to try to find out. 

We copied hospital methods. The religious services in 
the hospital ward were discontinued and we changed 
the program to personal work with the individual patients 
every day. A record was kept after the medical fashion. 
In a good hospital every patient is interviewed on admis- 
sion and his personal history, as well as the progress of 
his symptoms, is carefully noted. This history covers 
everything from the inception of the disease to the time 
of entrance. Then there is a thorough examination and 
after a diagnosis is established, treatment is undertaken. 
Each day’s treatment is recorded and also the patient’s 
reaction to it. 

For each of our hospital patients we made out a second 
history, his religious history. On admission he was care- 
fully interviewed. The locality from which he came was 
ascertained and also his type of Mohammedanism. How 
much contact had the patient had with Christianity? 
Usually, of course, none at all. Then his treatment 
was undertaken. We tried every presentation of Christ’s 
teachings and example that we knew. ‘The systematic 
presentation,—the conception of sin and of man’s need 
of a Saviour; the conception of God’s holiness. We 
tried the historical presentation,—the prophecies concern- 
ing Christ; his birth and life and teachings; his death and 
resurrection. We tried the parables. We had great 
hope for the parables. They seemed to have been given 
for just such cases as our Arabs. Each day’s presenta- 
tion was carefully recorded, together with the reaction of 
the patient to it. March 17th, we will say, Abdullah ibn 


296 THE ARAB AT HOME 


Khalid had presented to him the Parable of the Prodigal 
Son. How did he react? Did he enjoy it or was he 
annoyed by it? Did it interest him? Did it make him 
angry or, indeed, did it so far fail to interest him that he 
went to sleep trying to listen? 

At the end of the year we had some very interesting 
records to study. We anticipated that something like his 
own very mechanical and ultra-Calvanistic philosophy 
would appeal best to the Arab but we could find no evi- 
dence that it did so. The historical presentation seemed 
to be no more effective. Even the parables that we had 
anticipated would be so acceptable seemed to fail us. 
We did find one aspect of the Gospel, however, that ap- 
parently had a real appeal, namely the mystical element in 
_ Christ’s teachings,—“I am the bread of life,” in the sixth 
chapter of John; “I am the true vine and my Father is the 
husbandman,” in the fifteenth; and especially the tenth 
chapter of John with its Parable of the Good Shepherd. 
- So now, as far as is possible, we try to present that as- 
pect of Christian truth to the men whom we meet, and 
comprehension and appreciation on their part have in- 
creased enormously. 

We learned something else from the study. We 
learned that if the missionary meets a Bedouin fresh from 
the desert who has never seen a white man before, to say 
nothing of having come into any previous contact with 
Christianity, and if the missionary gives such an Arab a 
digest of the Westminster Catechism in ten minutes, the 
Bedouin fails to get it. A moderately obvious sort of 
thing, no doubt, but it is surprising how long it takes 
some of us to see obvious things. 

So now the Arab who comes into the Bahrein Hospital 
is treated along these two lines. He has presented to him 


THE ARAB AND CHRISTIANITY 297 


the mystical aspect of Christ’s teachings, and he has the 
same material presented over and over day after day, for 
probably his entire hospital stay. Abdul Karim ibn 
Abdur Rahman, we will say, comes into the hospital and 
is operated upon for hernia, which is our commonest 
operation. Within three days he is comfortable and de- 
lighted to have the doctor come and talk to him. The 
first day Abdul Karim hears the Parable of the Good 
Shepherd, if that is the presentation chosen for him, 
and the second day the same, and the third, and the 
fourth, and every day of the ten days more or less re- 
maining before his discharge. He is given nothing else. 

Christ’s teaching gains in this way a splendid re- 
sponse from even the most primitive Bedouin. His eyes 
light up at the doctor’s approach. “Sit down,” said one 
of them to me after perhaps ten days of such instruction, 
“and I will tell you the story.” And he told it in a way 
that quite put the missionary in the shade—how Christ 
desires to be a shepherd to all who are willing to follow 
Him; how He leads His followers out into such ex- 
periences and such hardships as are for their own devel- 
opment, just as the shepherd leads out the sheep to places 
where they can get nice green grass to eat and nice clean 
water to drink; how He protects them from the sins of 
their own hearts and the temptations of the world outside 
just as the shepherd protects his sheep from the wolves 
of the desert and the thieves of the towns; and just as 
the shepherd leads home the sheep when the day is over, 
so Christ when the sunset of life comes is anxious to lead 
us to the Father’s house. No one who has tried it can 
doubt the effectiveness of such a presentation, and if it 
seems that the method limits severely the amount of 
material presented, all that can be said is that a good 


298 THE ARAB AT HOME 


deal of Christ’s essential message can be found in the 
Parable of the Good Shepherd and that it accomplishes 
less to get a great deal into a man’s ears than to get a 
little into his heart. 

The third and ultimate task of the missionary in 
Arabia is to guide those earnest men and women who 
desire to follow Christ into a real fellowship with Him. 
This is not an easy task anywhere in the world and it 
is doubly difficult in Arabia. For the converted Moham- 
medan persecution is severe, and no one who lacks a 
definite and intense conviction can weather the storm. 
It was feared that some of the Arab Christians would be 
killed, but thus far no such tragedy has happened. In 
some cases, however, it has been necessary to transfer 
such a Christian to a city far from his home to lessen 
the pressure of persecution. He is comparatively safe 
in a strange city, for although abandoning Mohammed- 
anism is theoretically a capital crime, his own relatives, 
who are the ones personally disgraced by his defection, 
are far away. No one in the city where he now lives 
is personally concerned and therefore no one is interested 
in seeing that the law is enforced. Doubtless he is a 
traitor to the faith and ought to be killed, but killing such 
a man is a disagreeable and inconvenient job, and as long 
as leaving him alive brings no loss of prestige, no one 
is anxious to do away with him. In time such a man, 
living as a genuine Christian, commends himself to his 
neighbors and their respect protects him still further. 
Probably the only thing that would expose a Christian of 
long standing to danger would be some outbreak of mob 
violence such as results in massacres occasionally in 
Turkey. 

Earning a living, however, is another matter. Until 


THE ARAB AND CHRISTIANITY 299 


recently it has presented an almost insoluble problem. 
No one will buy from such a man or sell to him. No 
one has any work to offer him. Society automatically 
shuts down on the hapless Christian, and without the 
active assistance of the missionary he would starve to 
death. This is not because any powerful Mohammedan 
organization exists for the purpose of boycotting him. It 
happens because the people of the community unani- 
mously disapprove of his action, and he becomes a pariah. 
The missionary’s aid consists of employment rather than 
charity, of course, but even so the problem is not easy, 
for almost without exception the Arab is ill-trained for 
any work that the missionary can offer, and making the 
new Christian’s spiritual adviser also his employer is far 
from an ideal arrangement. 

Since the war, trade and industry have developed 
greatly in Mesopotamia, and it was hoped that converts 
might be able to find employment there outside of mis- 
Bionmcircies: 4u VoO somenrextent) wthisi) hope has) been 
realized, but the essence of the difficulty is not met even 
then. The problem of the individual’s earning a living 
may be satisfactorily solved, but the task of establishing 
indigenous communities of Christians in Arab lands 
is far from accomplishment. What we must work for 
and pray for and plan for is a group of Arab Christians 
who shall be an integral part not of the foreign settle- 
ment in a port city but of the Arab community itself. 
Individual and racial redemption are both bound up in 
the establishment of such a community. On the whole, 
very encouraging progress toward that goal has been 
made within recent years. It has been possible to estab- 
lish mission stations along the whole East Coast. By 
means of medical tours friendship with the interior has 


300 THE ARAB AT HOME 


been developed, and probably it will soon be possible to 
carry our message to the entire peninsula. Prejudice 
has been overcome, and the missionaries enjoy the cor- 
dial good will and fellowship of all classes in practically 
every station where they reside. Standards of social 
and family life are beginning to rise. Best of all, there 
has been a growing interest in the message and the 
Christian services of the stations are attended by in- 
creasing numbers. Kuwait has a regular attendance of 
seventy-five and Bahrein of perhaps fifty. There are 
from six to ten earnest Christians whose faithfulness 
and enthusiasm are a promise of better things to come. 
As yet these are isolated individuals scattered through 
the half-dozen stations occupied by the Mission. The 
next step will be an increase in the number of these 
Christians up to the point where they can form small 
groups and thus gain the strength and community eff- 
ciency that group life will bring. When that point is 
reached, perhaps half of the Mission’s work will have 
been accomplished. 

But there is no limit to the goal that the Mission sets 
itself. The missionary to Arabia works for the redemp- 
tion of the individual Arab and of the entire Arab race, 
but his hope and vision go beyond even that. It was the 
mind of the Arab that gave Mohammedanism to the 
world—a faith whose outlines are at once so simple and 
so magnificent that it carries immediate conviction to the 
primitive mind everywhere and satisfies the religious de- 
sires of millions of primitive people as no other faith has 
been able to do. The Christian missionary dreams of 
the day when that same Arab mind shall study and in- 
terpret Christ’s message so profoundly and simplify it 


THE ARAB AND CHRISTIANITY © 301 


so completely that we shall see it commanding the acqui- 
escence of the primitive mind and the devotion of the 
primitive heart to a degree greater than Mohammedan- 
ism has ever done. The complexity of our present 
Christianity is a western product. The missionary 
knows that fundamentally it has a simplicity and a mag- 
nificence far greater than Mohammedanism. He knows 
that it provides a direct contact with God, an individual 
responsibility to Him and a call to devoted service that 
go beyond anything that Mohammed ever conceived. 
But the missionary knows painfully well that Christ’s 
teaching as the West has systematized it and interpreted 
it and crystallized it into institutions and customs and 
rituals and theologies, is possessed of no such simplic- 
ity. The missionary dreams of the time when the Arab 
mind will present Christianity to the primitive peoples 
of the world with its whole creed expressed in four 
words and its demand on human life in one. 

We of the West are much too ready to assume that 
we have reached very nearly to ultimate knowledge in 
everything. I once asked a leading American judge in 
the Philippines about the working of the judicial system 
in the Islands. “Oh,” he said, “it is a reproduction of 
the American system. It works very well. Dishonesty 
has been almost entirely eliminated.” 

“Yes,” I agreed, “but that is not quite what I had 
in mind. Do you find that a system so obviously west- 
ern in its spirit and methods as the American judicial 
system is adapted to the race mind of the Filipinos?” 

The judge was puzzled, amused and irritated all at 
once. Perpendicular lines are perpendicular, horizontal 
lines are horizontal, and the American judicial system 


302 THE ARAB AT HOME 


is ideal. “Why would it not be adapted to them?” he 
wanted to know. “It is the American system, honestly 
administered.” 

There is no reason to be ashamed of our own institu- 
tions. They are undoubtedly adapted to our needs, and 
by their means we have carried forward the conquest of 
nature infinitely further than any other race has suc- 
ceeded in doing. But our system of thought, our social 
organization and our type of religious expression are 
certainly not ideally adapted to other races. No one who 
has lived for any length of time in India can fail to 
realize that the Indian type of mind is essentially differ- 
ent from our own. The Chinese mind is different from 
both. 

The significant fact about the Arab is that he is the 
natural leader of the primitive mind throughout the 
world. ‘The primitive man in Africa is not impressed by 
the intricacies and subtleties of Hinduism. The cold 
morality of Confucianism would be equally foreign to 
his mind and his religious desires. But the system of 
the Arab has gripped him wherever it has been presented 
to him. Mohammedanism, however, has made little ap- 
peal to the Chinese mind and no great appeal to the 
Indian mind. There are Mohammedans in each of these 
countries, but the faith occupies no position of dominance 
in either. 

The missionary looks forward to the time when the 
Arab will lead the primitive races of the world, not down 
but up, not into the hopeless petrified slough of Moham- 
medanism but into the simple and powerful faith which 
is to be found in Christ, and by means of that faith into 
personal and social and political redemption. The Arab 
is a born leader. He looks upon himself as such, and 


THE ARAB AND CHRISTIANITY 303 


there is no doubt that within the limits of primitive con- 
ditions he is correct. It is a striking fact that wherever 
he is mixed with other races such as the Persians or the 
Negroes or the Copts, he rules over them. Any contri- 
bution to the Arab is thus a contribution to the whole 
primitive world. 

The missionary’s only hope for success lies in the in- 
herent power of Christ’s example and Christ’s teachings. 
He does not draw men by bribes. He does not drive 
them by threats. He does not want diplomatic support, 
and he would be alarmed'to learn that he had even the 
approval of the usual western commercial representative. 
He prays earnestly that western militarism may never 
cloud his most distant horizon. He desires no external 
aid whatever except that of men and women who pray. 
But the glory of the missionary enterprise is the fact that 
it is the work of the whole church. It is the outreach 
of a fellowship. In it is expressed our faith in an 
omnipotent Christ and our brotherly love and _ inter- 
national outlook for His whole world. The missionary 
is anxious for the cooperation of many fellow-Christians 
whose interest and sympathy and prayers shall be enlisted 
with his own in that great enterprise. For he who 
represents such a group is armed with power that reaches 
far above and beyond his own feeble efforts and possibili- 
ties. He is not striving single-handed to carry the 
message of Christ into the heart of Arabia. The sym- 
pathy and friendship and earnest prayer of a hundred co- 
workers are with him. That missionary steps forward 
into his work with the spiritual power and effectiveness 
of the whole fellowship. He sees opposing barriers melt 
away. He sees forbidden doors open. He sees hostile 
chiefs transformed into warm and enthusiastic personal 


304 THE ARAB AT HOME 


friends. Wild fanatical tribes ask him to live among 
them. We still have much to learn from the early Chris- 
tians, who understood far better than we the power of 
united prayer and united sympathy and united partici- 
pation in the task of bringing the whole world into the 
Christian fellowship. Our final success will depend 
largely on learning that same lesson. 


CHARTER Gs VI 


BRINGING MEDICINE AND SURGERY 
INTO ARABIA 


vanced medicine in the world was to be found in 
Arabia. It was composed largely of elements trans- 
mitted from the Greeks, added to and developed in a way 
that sheds real luster on the Arab mind of that time. 
But in 1258 the Mongols took Baghdad and destroyed 
the very foundations of a civilization which had become 
incredibly corrupt. Among the other wanton acts that 
marked the progress of the barbarians was one from 
which recovery was impossible. They destroyed the ir- 
rigation system that had made Mesopotamia for thou- 
sands of years a garden of date trees and alfalfa fields 
and grain crops. The civilization of the caliphs had 
rested upon that irrigation system; without it Meso- 
potamia reverted to a desert and the whole civilization 
disappeared. Arabian medicine, which was one of the 
chief glories of that civilization, shared the same fate. 
Now no trace of it remains. Arabia has nothing but a 
weary and unrelieved desert of quackery and ignorance. 
Quack remedies are extremely common. Itinerant 
vendors of medicine appear periodically in the Arab 
bazaars with some miraculous powder or draught or 
charm for sale. The impudence of the claims made for 


these medicines is limitless. They are supposed, of 
305 


if the days of the Baghdad Caliphate the most ad- 


306 THE ARAB AT HOME 


course, to be made up of an impressive list of ingredients, 
but as a matter of fact, most of them contain nothing 
except innocent constituents purchased at the same 
bazaar a few hours before. Essences of iron and steel 
figure prominently in the list of aphrodisiacs which con- 
stitute the major stock-in-trade of such quacks. Other 
remedies are of a more extraordinary nature. From the 
Oman coast I was once much puzzled to hear of a notable 
liniment which was reported to have wonderful properties 
of relieving pain and hastening the healing of sores. 
Taken internally it would even cure dysentery. In the 
course of time I was able to visit that district and investi- 
gate this remarkable medicine. It turned out to be French 
furniture polish of a brown color and a pungent odor, 
which had been purchased in the markets of Bombay. 
As no one in that part of Arabia was able to read 
French, one and all remained ignorant of the nature of 
their favorite medicine. One day some vaccine ampoules 
were washed ashore in that same district. The labels 
were gone, so I was totally unable even to guess the na- 
ture of the contents. A number had been picked up, 
and a man who showed me one explained that he had 
broken open another of these “‘little bottles” and used its 
contents as a medicine for a stubborn ulcer on his leg. 
He assured me that the ulcer had healed with remarkable 
rapidity. 

There are no doctors in Arabia, neither doctors trained 
in schools nor inheritors of tradition handed down from 
father to son or from master to pupil by word of mouth. 
In twelve years’ experience I have never seen the most 
elementary beginnings of anything that could be termed 
a medical profession in any part of Arabia. Its only 
medicine consists of a generally diffused knowledge of 





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BRINGING. MEDICINE TO ARABIA 307 


certain useful remedies and the kindly ministrations of 
the Arab women to the sick of their own household. 
To the community’s credit it should be added, however, 
that there is nothing that corresponds to the medicine 
man who exorcises demons and makes a living by capi- 
talizing the credulity and fear of the ignorant in many 
other lands. The Mohammedan religion has no place for 
such an individual and so far as I know he does not exist. 
There is only one Arab idea concerning disease that par- 
takes of the nature of superstition and that is the fear 
of the “evil eye.” Children especially must be protected 
from this malign influence, and various charms and 
amulets and religious phrases are resorted to for the 
purpose. With this exception, however, the Arabs are 
very remarkably free from superstition in their ideas re- 
garding disease, both as to its causes and as to its 
treatment. 

In spite of the complete lack of a medical profession, a 
science of medicine of a crude sort does exist in Arabia. 
It is the common property of every one. Its pathol- 
ogy is that of ancient Greek medicine. The four humors, 
Yellow Bile, Black Bile, Phlegm and Mucus, figure 
largely in the causation and the classification of disease. 
The four properties are also important. A thing may 
be Hot or Cold, Wet or Dry. These terms have noth- 
ing to do with actual physical properties; they refer to 
effects upon the human body or to conditions of the body 
itself. Coffee for instance is Hot and Dry. Combined 
in faulty proportions any of these elements may bring 
about disease. Wind is also a very potent factor. It 
is capable of escaping into the body at undesired spots. 
It is frequently found making trouble in the knee, but 
most commonly of all in the abdomen. Almost any long- 


308 THE ARAB AT HOME 


standing pain, such as that of chronic rheumatism or the 
discomfort of a chronic indigestion, is attributed to this 
Wind. 

Smells are also effective causes of disease. ‘Two 
weeks ago,” solemnly avers an old patriarch, “I smelied 
a bad smell and ever since I have noticed this pain in my 
chest.”” There is more than pure foolishness to this idea. 
Some of the smells of Arabia are almost enough to cause 
_ disease, and though the association between a bad smell 
and disease may not be so direct as the Arabs suppose, 
the relation is nevertheless a real one. This fear of bad 
smells in a country where sanitation is lacking is a valu- 
able idea. As a protection against the evil effects of bad 
smells the nostrils are often plugged, it having apparently 
never occurred to the Arab mind that the air must then 
be inhaled through the mouth with the same or worse 
results. 

The generally diffused ideas concerning disease include 
a knowledge of a certain number of useful drugs. Such 
drugs are for sale in every bazaar, and their use is known 
to every one. Senna is one of the most popular of a 
number of purgatives that are continually called for. 
Constipation appears to be universal in Arabia, and un- 
questionably the use of purgatives is harmfully common. 
Besides these laxatives, there is a universal use of copper 
sulphate crystals for trachoma and an equally universal 
use of various hot beverages for fevers. 

The use of mercury for syphilis is well understood. 
It is taken for secondary lesions; the primary and the 
tertiary stages are not recognized as being connected with 
the same trouble. Frequently the mercury is taken by 
inhalation in tobacco smoke. Such medicated tobacco 
will yield quite an amount of finely divided mercury on 


BRINGING MEDICINE TO ARABIA 309 


shaking in water. This method of administration gives 
rise to the most horrible salivation, but it appears to be 
quite effective in clearing up the lesions of the disease. 

Besides this use of drugs, the actual cautery is in great 
vogue. All manner of complaints are treated by branding 
the over-skin of the affected part, or indeed sometimes 
the skin of some other region. The underlying idea, of 
course, is counter irritation, and frequently the practice 
is very beneficial. I have used it myself for the treat- 
ment of a painful pleurisy with good results. For the 
pains of chronic rheumatism it is doubtless of real benefit, 
as also for many other chronic troubles. In some other 
conditions it can hardly help very much, as for instance 
when the left wrist is branded to cure jaundice. The 
poultice is also often employed. Its most common use 
in Arabia, as in the rest of the world, is to bring infection 
to a head and facilitate its discharge externally as pus. 
Besides these local applications, various ointments enjoy 
wide reputation. They are designated by elaborate 
names, the “door of peace” being a very popular oint- 
ment in Bahrein and on the East Coast. 

The Arabs have learned, from the West, the value of 
vaccination against smallpox and are great believers in it. 
They themselves have developed a crude but apparently 
effective method of vaccination against anthrax, a disease 
which occasionally carries off large numbers of sheep in 
Arabia. As described to me the process is more or less 
as follows. When the disease starts in the herd, one of 
the first animals to die is autopsied and the lungs are 
hung up to putrefy. The process of putrefaction, how- 
ever, is not permitted to proceed very far. As soon as a 
faint odor of putrefaction is to be detected about the sus- 
pended lungs, the animals are brought up one at a time, 


310 THE ARAB AT HOME 


and a scratch made in the ear sufficiently deep to draw 
just a drop or two of blood. A bit of the juicy and 
slightly putrescent lung is rubbed into the scratch and the 
treatment repeated with each animal in the flock. The 
Arabs tell me that of a flock so treated only one or two 
will die, whereas in an untreated flock hardly more than 
that number will be left alive. 

The indigenous surgery of Arabia is even more inter- 
esting than its medicine. It is astonishing to see the 
courage with which surgical diseases are attacked. Prob- 
ably for purposes of hemostasis, the Arabs have learned 
to make their incisions with a red-hot knife. I know of 
one liver abscess successfully opened in that way and of 
an enormous sarcoma of the thigh which was very deeply 
incised in the belief that it was a huge abscess. The 
mistake nearly cost the patient his life, for the hemor- 
rhage that followed was severe, but the courageous Arab 
operator had provided for that, and with rags and cotton 
and bandages he stopped it. 

Amputation of the hand is the most common major 
surgical procedure in Arabia, because it is the orthodox 
punishment for theft. The stump is dipped in boiling oil 
to check the hemorrhage, just as used to be done with us. 
Teeth are pulled with crude forceps and such an operation 
becomes at times practically a major procedure lasting 
one or two days before the tooth is finally extracted. 

A far more ingenious and really effective surgical pro- 
cedure is the Arab treatment of fractures. The usual 
case in Arabia is a gunshot fracture and is commonly as- 
sociated with great injury to the soft parts. Many such 
wounded men fall immediate victims to hemorrhage, and 
more still to infection a few days later. Those, however, 
who are not carried off at once by one of these two catas- 


BRINGING MEDICINE TO ARABIA 311 


trophes, are treated with surprising efficiency. The 
Arabs lack all knowledge of anatomy, even of bones, so 
that no effort is made to reduce a fracture, but the injured 
member is most efficiently immobilized. The patient is 
laid on the sand, small stakes are driven into the ground 
along the sides of the fractured extremity and it is tied 
into place by means of cords. A hollow is dug under the 
patient to make use of a bed-pan possible, and a tent 
erected over him to keep off the sun. The patient re- 
mains so confined to his sand bed for perhaps three 
months. The position of the bone fragments is some- 
times extraordinary, but as a result of this method of 
immobilization I have seen but one case of ununited 
fracture of the lower extremity in twelve years. 

An ingenious but somewhat terrible operation for 
hemorrhoids has a considerable vogue in Arabia. A vio- 
lent purge is given to the patient, and as a result of his 
straining, the hemorrhoids are extruded. A corrosive 
paste is then bound over the extruded mass. I have had 
no opportunity to examine this paste, but I have no doubt 
that it contains arsenic. The treatment is effective in 
removing the hemorrhoids and contrary to what might be 
expected, the danger of a subsequent anal stricture must 
be very remote. At least I have never seen such a stric- 
ture, and the operation is a fairly common one. The pro- 
cedure, however, is hideously painful. One man I know 
of went out and sat for hours in the sea in an effort to 
lessen the fearful pain. 

But by all odds the most ingenious as well as the most 
useful operation that I have met with in Arabia is the 
operation for trichiasis. Trichiasis is a very common 
condition resulting from untreated trachoma, with which 
the whole country is filled. A chronic lesion on the inner 


312 THE ARAB AT HOME 


aspect of the lid eventually leads to a contraction of that 
surface, and as the free lower edge curls in, the eyelashes 
come to rake back and forth over the cornea. It is only 
a question of a little time before such an eye is entirely 
lost. There are two ways of dealing with this situation. 
The first and most commonly resorted to is to keep the 
hairs that make up the eyelash carefully pulled out, so 
that the edge which rubs on the cornea remains smooth. 
If this process is faithfully attended to, such an eye can 
be preserved indefinitely. Fine tweezers for this purpose 
are a regular article of trade in every Arabian bazaar 
and are a part of the toilet equipment of even desert 
nomads. 

But the condition can also be corrected by means of a 
surgical operation. An incision is made through the skin 
of the affected eyelid, reaching from one border to the 
other. Both eyes, of course, almost invariably require 
treatment. The incision is superficial, extending through 
the skin and down to the tarsal cartilage only. There is 
no effort to incise the cartilage itself. A suture is placed 
in each end of the incision and left untied. The work is 
done without an anesthetic, for the Arabs are unac- 
quainted with any such thing. A round twig or small 
stick is next provided, about the caliber of a lead pencil 
and an inch long, and by means of the sutures which 
have been inserted, it is tied into place in the incision. 
This bit of wood or twig is left in place for a month and 
a half or thereabouts, and during this time there is a 
steady supuration of the wound. Healing is, of course, 
impossible; the stick is kept in the wound for the express 
purpose of preventing it. At the end of six weeks, more 
or less, the sutures are cut, the stick removed, and the 
wound rapidly heals. The amount of scar tissue ex- 


BRINGING MEDICINE TO ARABIA 313 


ternally now balances more or less accurately the scar 
tissue on the inner surface of the lid, and its contraction 
prevents the curling in that the internal contraction 
would tend to produce. 

A method as crude as this might be expected to give 
very bad results, but as a matter of fact I have seen a 
number of eyes treated in this way, all but two of them 
with excellent results. Twice I have seen this treatment 
end in the sloughing away of almost all the skin of the 
upper lid, with a terrible ectropion as a result. The eye- 
lash was plastered up against the eyebrow, and the eye, 
entirely unable to close, was soon lost. 

The boldness and ingenuity shown in these surgical 
operations might have developed into something much 
more advanced if they had been founded on an accurate » 
knowledge of anatomy. But anatomy is a closed book to 
the Arabs. Human dissection would be regarded with 
horror, and they do not know, of course, that animal dis- 
section would afford much useful information. Under 
the circumstances, nothing is possible except the most 
elementary beginnings. 

In such a country modern medicine and surgery are 
bound to be very much appreciated. For all practical 
purposes the people are without medical relief, and their 
needs are just as extreme as ours would be under such 
circumstances. Epidemics run riot. Cholera gaining 
entrance into a village may sweep a quarter of its in- 
habitants away. Smallpox is a continual scourge. Blind 
beggars are everywhere. All along the coast the ef- 
ficiency of the population is reduced by malaria to a mere 
fraction of what it ought to be. In Katif, the worst 
malaria center in our immediate vicinity, the incidence of 
enlarged malarial spleen must run as high as fifty per cent. 


314 THE ARAB AT HOME 


The only effort to meet this extreme need has been that 
of the British Government, which has posted a sub- 
assistant surgeon at each of the main ports of the Persian 
Gulf, and that of the Arabian Mission, which aims to 
place a fully qualified doctor at each of its stations and 
provide a hospital for him to work in. The government 
sub-assistant surgeons are qualified by their training for 
only the simpler sort of medical work. They rarely or 
never attempt surgery. They are nevertheless an enor- 
mous blessing to the country. The activities of the 
medical missionaries reach a wider area, for patients come 
from great distances to receive treatment at their hands. 
It is partly on this account that their work tends to be- 
come more and more surgical. The number that such a 
medical missionary reaches may be enormous, for the 
amount of work that he does is limited by nothing except 
his own capacity. Last year five hundred major opera- 
tions were performed in connection with the medical work 
in Bahrein, most of them in the hospital itself. Perhaps 
there were as many minor operations. Upwards of ten 
thousand patients were treated in the out-patient depart- 
ment. Such figures, however, mean next to nothing. If 
a tenth of the men and women who need surgical atten- 
tion in our field reported to the hospital, it would Be 
ten men instead of one to do the work. 

Although the equipment of these missionary hospitals 
is meager, they do good work judged even by the best 
standards of surgery at home, and compared with local 
standards their results are almost miraculous. Their 
reputation spreads far and wide. The Bedouins who 
come from the interior to a doctor that they have never 
seen, display a confidence in his judgment and his good 
intentions that is remarkable. The prospect of an opera- 





sR oot teenie tice 








THE HOSPITALS AT KUWAIT 





BRINGING MEDICINE TO ARABIA 315 


tion terrifies them not a particle and their eagerness for 
operation when there is a chance of benefit is almost lu- 
dicrous. One of the tutors of Ibn Saoud’s children once 
came to have an operation on his stomach, necessitated by 
a long-standing gastric ulcer. His chief did not know 
of his intention but when well on his way toward 
Hasa where the doctor was staying, discovered the pa- 
tient in the same caravan. “Has it come to this,” asked 
Ibn Saoud in surprise, “that men now have their abdo- 
mens cut open just as they cut open a sack or an old suit 
of clothes?” 

The service of the medical missionary is more than 
a personal service; it is a community service. Once on 
a tour that took us far into the interior of Oman we 
entered a village which was suffering from a severe epi- 
demic of cholera. We were the guests of the ruling 
chief, as travelers usually are. 

“You are a doctor, are you not?” asked the chief. 

mi eswimore oriess OL One, |. ly replied: 

“Well then, can you not tell us some way to stop this 
epidemic?” asked the chief. “Many are dying daily.” 

“T can easily tell you how to stop this epidemic,” I said, 
“but I doubt if it does any good, for you will not do as 
I say.” 

“Yes, we will do just what you say,” insisted the chief. 
“Try us and see.” 

“Very well,’ I said. “If you will boil all the water 
you drink and cook all the food you eat and see that no 
fly with his dirty feet comes to walk over your food be- 
fore it is eaten, then you will not have any more cholera.” 

For once in my life the people believed me, and word 
went out from the chief’s house that no water was to be 
drunk unboiled and no food to be eaten uncooked. Flies 


316 THE ARAB AT HOME 


were to be kept away from all food. That epidemic 
stopped as if it had been cut off with an ax. There was 
not another fresh case reported after that day. 

Bahrein is full of malaria. One of the city officials 
came to me not long ago to inquire as to the possibility 
of putting kerosene oil on the stagnant pools with which 
Bahrein abounds and so diminishing the amount of 
that disease. In matters like these the medical missionary 
has a most wonderful opportunity to be the pioneer in 
public health service. He hopes to see the day when 
all such work will be taken up by the governing sheikhs 
and carried to a point far beyond anything that he can 
do, but in the meantime helping to get such projects 
started is one of his keenest pleasures. He is also inter- 
ested in the creation of an elementary medical literature 
for these backward communities. Simple pamphlets on 
malaria have found a wide reading in Basra, and a series 
of similar popular presentations of the dangers, means of 
transmission, and treatment of tuberculosis, syphilis, 
gonorrhea and malaria is projected for Bahrein. This 
is a work that often taxes the medical missionary to the 
utmost, for his literary abilities are not always of a high 
order and his available time is still less adequate, but it 
is something that he must do. 

Not the least charm of work in such a country as 
Arabia is the number of medical problems that invite 
investigation. We have, for instance, a large amount of 
tuberculosis in Arabia, especially in the nomad communi- 
ties. In America probably seventy-five per cent of all 
tubercular infections are pulmonary, but in Arabia per- 
haps less than twenty-five per cent. Just what causes the 
difference it would be interesting to investigate. One is 
tempted to speculate on the possibility of Arabian tuber- 


BRINGING MEDICINE TO ARABIA 317 


culosis being due to the ingestion of bacilli in infected 
camel’s milk, which forms the main food of the desert 
nomads. Whether or not their camels are frequently tu- 
bercular there has as yet been no opportunity to deter- 
mine. There is no appendicitis in Arabia. To say that 
appendicitis is a disease of civilization is simply to state 
the same fact in a different way. What we would like to 
know is how and why civilization produces the disease. 
In twelve years’ experience in Arabia I have seen only two 
cases and both of them were imported. It is difficult to 
imagine that it is the more correct dietetic habits of the 
Arabs that gain them this exemption, for their dietetic 
habits seem to be about as bad as such habits could 
well be. There is also an ordinary type of ascites with 
a large amount of abdominal effusion, which is fairly 
common in Arabia. It is associated with an enlarged 
spleen and a certain amount of cirrhosis of the liver. 
It is credited to chronic malaria by the medical men of 
India, where the disease is also quite common, but in 
Arabia we appear to get a good many cases from sections 
of the country where malaria is practically unknown. 
Stone in the bladder is a common affection all over 
the Orient, and Arabia is no exception. There is an area 
in Mesopotamia between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers 
where this disease is very common indeed. A steady 
stream of such cases finds its way from this region to 
every near-by hospital. In the days when the Mission 
maintained a hospital in Basra, something like a hundred 
stone cases a year were treated in that institution, prac- 
tically all of them from this area. Two years ago I had 
an opportunity to visit the district. Mendel of New 
Haven had shown some years before that stone formation 
could be induced in rats by feeding them a deficient diet ; 


318 THE ARAB AT HOME 


and we went, therefore, with the thought that perhaps 
some dietetic defect was the cause of the large number of 
stone cases. On arrival the cause of the vesical calculus 
of the region was obvious enough, and it had nothing to 
do with the diet of the people. The whole district is a 
nest of bilharzia infection. Every adult man who was 
interviewed on the subject gave a history of hematuria, or 
bloody urine, during his adolescent years, and it was evi- 
dent that such an infection, if repeated sufficient times, 
was adequate to cause stone formation in a certain num- 
ber of cases. In the five days of our stay we saw over 
eighty cases of bilharzia infection. With a little govern- 
mental assistance it will be an easy thing to stamp out that 
disease, for we are fortunate in possessing an excellent 
specific treatment in tartar emetic, administered intraven- 
ously. It is evident that bilharzia infection is far more 
common in Mesopotamia than has been supposed hitherto, 
as Dr. Borrie, the civil surgeon of Basra, has shown that 
in that city it is an exceedingly common disease, the 
incidence in boys running far above fifty per cent. 
Syphilis is more common and widespread in Arabia 
than in America, I think. This is due partly to the fact 
that with us in America a single infection is usually con- 
fined to a narrower circle in its possible spread than in 
Arabia, where the very promiscuous marriage customs 
afford to a single infection an almost unlimited circle of 
possible spread. The community there appears to have 
been partially immunized to the disease, and the more 
severe late lesions, including locomotor ataxia and paresis, 
are very uncommon in spite of the prevalence of the pri- 
mary and secondary manifestations. In regard to gonor- 
rhea, which is very common, it is a striking thing that in 
the district around Bahrein and Kuwait where treatment 


BRINGING MEDICINE TO ARABIA 319 


is confined to drinks and to various internal remedies, 
stricture appears to be quite unknown. In Oman, on the 
contrary, where local treatment of all sorts is undertaken, 
stricture is very common. These are only a few of the 
local medical problems that invite investigation. One of 
the most cherished ambitions of the medical missionary is 
that he may be able to use the clinical material that passes 
through his hands in connection with such diseases to in- 
crease the sum total of scientific knowledge by some gen- 
uine contribution, even though it be a small one. 

In a country like Arabia a doctor works under some 
decided handicaps. There are, first of all, the ignorance 
of the people and the consequent difficulty of getting them 
to appreciate the importance of carrying out instructions. 
A Bedouin once came to the improvised hospital where 
we were working in Riaydh on one of our trips there. 
He needed some ointment for local treatment. He was 
told to bring a little coffee cup as a container for the medi- 
cine and given careful instructions. ‘“This medicine,” 
said the doctor, “is for use on this inflamed place for the 
coming week. First you must wash it off carefully with 
warm water and then put just a little of the ointment on 
a clean piece of cloth and bind it in place. The process 
must be repeated every day at least once. Now, do you 
understand ?” 

He said he did and went off to sit down in the corner, 
while the work of the clinic continued. Ten minutes 
later the doctor brought him back just as he was in the 
act of leaving. ‘Here, where are you going and what 
have you been doing?” 

“I have been putting the medicine on the sore place 
just as you told me to do.” 

“No,” replied the doctor, “you have not been putting 


320 THE ARAB AT HOME 


the medicine on just as I told you to do, for I see that 
your coffee cup is empty, and the medicine was to last 
you a week. What have you been doing with it?” 

“T have been putting it on just as you told me,” 
insisted the Arab. 

“Now see here,” replied the doctor, “what is the use 
of telling me that? Did not I tell you that it was for a 
week’s use ?”’ 

“Oh yes, I know you said that, but you see, I had to 
put it all on now, for I am going home to drink some 
coffee now and this is the only coffee cup that I possess.” 

So the doctor threw up his hands and surrendered. 
“Be sure to come back tomorrow for further treatment,” 
was all he said. 

An Arab came to see us on the last day of one of our 
medical visits toa townin Oman. He brought with him 
his son, of perhaps twenty years, who was suffering from 
a severe attack of malaria. In those days we were treat- 
ing malaria by giving three doses of quinine of ten grains 
each, three times a day. The patient received eighty 
grains of quinine, to last him well into the third day, after 
which he was to report for further advice. That after- 
noon when I was already on my camel and ready to start 
for the next town, the boy’s father came around to see 
me again. 

“T came this morning to get medicine for my boy.” 

Nes, 1 said i liremember! youl" ltwwastorhtever 
Have you given him a dose of it as I told you to?” 

“I tried to get him to take it,” replied the father, “but 
he says it is bitter.’ 

“TI know it is bitter,’ I said, “but he will have to take 
it. He is sick and nothing else will cure him.” 


BRINGING MEDICINE TO ARABIA 321 


“I told him that,” the father continued, “but he says 
that it is so bitter that he cannot possibly drink it.” 

“Of course it is bitter; ‘its name is medicine not candy’ 
(an Arab proverb). You must make him take it.’ 

“Yes,” replied the man patiently. “That is what I 
tried to do, but he says he would rather die than take it, 
and then I got angry and to show him what he ought to 
UO siedrankit. 

What's’ that?” P/saidi) {You drank it?” 

“Yes,”’ said the man with great simplicity, “I drank it.” 

“Did you drink it all?” 

“Yes, all of it, and now my head goes around like 
this,” illustrating with his hands. 

“How long ago did you drink it?” 

“Oh, perhaps four or five hours.” 

So he was sent home to sleep it off, and I was thankful 
that eighty grains of quinine lost was all the damage done. 
Tonics containing arsenic have to be dispensed with the 
greatest caution. But the idea that if a little is good, 
then of course more is better, is not confined to Arabia. 

A second obstacle to first-class work is bad physical 
surroundings. Even in the hospital in Bahrein our 
equipment is far from ideal. It is only recently that we 
have been able to have cement floors. On trips work 
must be done in still more primitive surroundings. We 
made a trip to Hasa once and used up nearly all our 
Fowler’s Solution killing flies. There were swarms of 
them everywhere and in the morning the dead insects 
were swept up in quarts. Although there was a well 
in the house, it was so contaminated with dead flies 
that we had to stop using its water. 

As difficult a night as I ever spent was in Katif, oper- 


ae THE ARAB AT HOME 


ating on a man with a strangulated hernia, who was 
brought in at half past eight. The operation was under- 
taken without delay. There was no assistant available 
who knew how to give chloroform, so the patient was 
given a high spinal anesthetic. The only light was a 
common hand lantern with a half-inch wick and ap- 
proximately one candle-power light. We had a mere 
handful of instruments, and there was no possibility of 
changing them during the procedure. Nevertheless, we 
were able to resect about nine inches of gangrenous bowel, 
anastomose it and repair the abdominal wound, and, 
murabile dictu, the man did not die but made a good 
recovery. 

Even the comparatively small question of adequate 
cleaning of the skin preparatory to operation has given 
us a good deal of trouble, for the skins that we have to 
deal with are exceedingly dirty, and getting them clean 
enough for aseptic surgery is not easy. When work 
was begun the character of our hospital assistants 
constituted a grave handicap, but training has largely 
eliminated that. A far worse problem is the matter of 
the patient’s food. We are not able to feed more than 
a small number of the patients that come to the hospital, 
and the only food that many of them are able to buy is 
utterly inadequate. Another serious difficulty is the fact 
that men cannot work for women or women for men 
in Arabia. Although it is easy to provide competent 
service for the women’s wards by getting trained nurses 
from India, the matter is much more difficult in the men’s 
wards. Every patient is supposed to bring his special 
nurse with him, and many of them bring several. These 
friends, brothers, fathers crowd the ward. They sleep 
for the most part on the floor next to the bed of the 


BRINGING MEDICINE TO ARABIA 323 


patient they are caring for, and as far as unskilled atten- 
tion is concerned they take the best imaginable care of 
him. In spite of the problems it presents, this system 
of having hospital patients bring their own special nurses 
with them works very well. The patients feel at home 
and are never lonesome. For skilled dressings depend- 
ence is had on the hospital staff. Even in America a 
large number of hospital patients could be taken care of 
perfectly well by members of their own family if the 
hospitals were organized to make such a plan possible. 

I remember as an example of the smooth working of 
the system a Persian who came to the hospital in Bah- 
rein with a bad case of nephritis. His little boy, who 
could not have been over ten years of age, came to take 
care of him, and finer filial loyalty I never expect to see. 
Coming into the hospital at two in the morning on some 
emergency work, I have seen the sick man turn in his 
bed and the boy immediately sit straight up out of a 
sound sleep to ask if there was anything that he could 
do for his father’s comfort. That little boy was a 
model nurse. He kept his father clean, brought him 
his food, cheered him up when he was downhearted. 
In spite of all we could do for him, the man did not 
improve and after perhaps a month he died. The little 
boy went all the way across a strange city at night to 
bring the relatives, so that the funeral need not be de- 
layed. He watched the preparations for the funeral and 
accompanied the body to the grave. After it was all 
over, he hunted up the doctor so that he could cry in his 
lap. 

Other handicaps under which the medical missionary 
labors are of a different character from those enumerated 
above. ‘The practice of a doctor in Arabia is very large, 


324 THE ARAB AT HOME 


and it is difficult not to be slipshod and careless and let 
ideals of thorough work deteriorate somewhat when a 
man is compelled to do twice as much work as he should 
attempt. Since human dissection is never permitted, 
the doctor is deprived of the chance to learn from his 
failures. For the most part he works alone and this 
lack of helpful criticism from colleagues and of all op- 
portunity to compare his work with that of other doc- 
tors is probably the most serious handicap of all. More- 
over, the medical missionary is not able to restrict him- 
self to a special field but must do everything, and al- 
though such a necessity ministers to breadth, it none the 
less makes his task much more difficult. His only course 
is to specialize in some one line and do the best he can 
in all the rest. 

Serious as these handicaps are, none of them are fatal; 
in spite of them all it is possible to do creditable work. 
Although no autopsies are possible, operations provide 
a large amount of pathological material for careful 
study. Most medical missionaries find that surgery is 
their major activity and they gradually specialize in that. 
Many of them develop a refinement of technique and a 
maturity of surgical judgment that would be a credit to 
any surgical clinic in America. There is no question but 
that it is harder to keep abreast of the times in a country 
like Arabia than it is at home, but by the help of medi- 
cal books and magazines it can be done. There are even 
some advantages to such a situation. The doctor in Ara- 
bia cannot call up Broad 6621 and ask Dr. Smith to 
come over and take a series of twenty-six X-Ray plates 
to establish the diagnosis of an obscure gastro-intestinal 
case. Nor can he call up Main 2283 and have Dr. Brown 
come over and make a Wassermann test, or call in Dr. 


SLNGILVd IVLIdSOH 





7 


es 


aN 


Tay! 





i 





BRINGING MEDICINE TO ARABIA 325 


White to determine the blood sugar and the non-protein 
nitrogen. All the laboratory work that is done he does 
himself. This means that the more elaborate tests are 
not made, but it is surprising what good results can be 
secured by the use of the five senses if a little of the 
very uncommon endowment of common sense is added. 
Of course some things go over such a man’s head. 
A little girl of sixteen years came into the clinic in Bah- 
rein suffering from severe indigestion. She gave a 
typical history of peptic ulcer. She suffered from severe 
gastric distress which was temporarily relieved by the 
ingestion of bland food. She vomited a great deal, and 
frequently with the stomach contents was mixed a mod- 
erate quantity of blood. She had a most unusual 
amount of pain, lying at times through the entire night 
with her knees doubled up into her face on account of 
its severity. The most remarkable feature of her case, 
however, was an enormous tumor which filled nearly the 
whole epigastrium. It was as hard as malignant di- 
sease, slightly movable and moderately but not ex- 
quisitely tender. Her parents and she herself insisted 
that this tumor together with her symptoms had been 
present for ten years, which threw the beginning of the 
disease back to the age of six. Other than the findings 
mentioned her examination was negative. She had a 
moderate grade of secondary anemia, but not more than 
was to be expected. Much meditation failed to uncover 
any disease picture in my subconscious mind which cor- 
responded to this girl’s trouble, but when the abdomen 
was opened and a “hair ball’? removed from her stomach, 
all mystery disappeared. She made an uneventful re- 
covery, and the Yale Pathological Museum told us that 
it was the largest “hair ball” of the sort they had ever 


326 THE ARAB AT HOME 


seen. It adds to‘the zest of life to be floored that way 
occasionally. 

Not only in regard to diagnosis, but no less in the 
technique of surgical operations, hard work and real 
thought can give some very satisfactory results. When 
work began with the present staff in Bahrein, approxi- 
mately one-third of our hernia cases developed some sort 
of aninfection. Our hernias are done with local anesthe- 
sia and the suture material is silk. Five years of hard 
work on this problem have developed a very differ- 
ent sort of result now. We have run a series of sixty- 
seven consecutive cases without so much as one stitch. 
abscess or other infection of the smallest sort. Aseptic 
technique can be carried out in Arabia as well as in Bal- 
timore, if the operator is determined to do it. My 
operating-room assistant has sterilized all our operating- 
room material for four years without a slip. The 
work is all done with an Arnold steam sterilizer, and 
we think the record a good one. Although most of the 
hospital assistants cannot read or write, they are gradually 
trained up to efficiency. Our anesthetist in Bahrein 
does work comparable with a professional anesthetist in 
America, though he can read only figures and five years 
ago was working as a water-carrier. 

As far as reputation is concerned, I will venture 
to say that no doctor in New York has ever en- 
joyed a reputation like that of a medical missionary. 
I made a visit to Riyadh once, and one of the first pa- 
tients to send for the newly arrived doctor was a friend 
of the chief, a prominent man of the city, who was dy- 
ing of tuberculosis. He knew that his condition was 
serious, and after a careful examination he asked, “How 
long do you think that I will liver’ The man was in 


BRINGING MEDICINE TO ARABIA 327 


the last stages of the disease and obviously his time was 
short. I was unable to give him any but the most un- 
favorable prognosis, and he died just a week later. 

Two or three days after his death, I heard myself un- 
der discussion in one of the reception rooms where I was 
paying a visit. “This man,” said an Arab to his friend, 
“is certainly a remarkable doctor. He arrived in Riyadh 
some ten days ago, as you know, and Abdullah sent for 
him at once. As soon as the doctor stepped into Ab- 
dullah’s house he pointed at him with his finger. ‘You 
will die,’ he said, ‘in exactly a week.’ Now he did not 
feel especially bad the following week; on the contrary 
he felt somewhat better, but just a week from that day 
he lay down and died.” 

A woman came to us in Bahrein suffering from an 
ovarian cyst. It was a huge affair weighing probably 
sixty or seventy pounds. We had no scales at hand large 
enough to weigh it. As it rested on the instrument 
table, the father of the patient came and asked for it. 
Oy Olmmush eine: toaty tome, he) said“ li want) its) 

“No,” I said, “you don’t want that. We do not give 
those things away. It will be of no use to you.” 

“Yes,” persisted the man, “you must give it to me for I 
need it. This woman you have just operated on is 
my daughter and on account of this trouble she lost her 
good name. Her husband returned three years ago after 
a prolonged absence and finding her abdomen swollen 
he divorced her without any words. Now it is evident 
that this trouble was not due to unfaithfulness on her 
part, so I want to take this to the judge and clear her 
good name.” 

“Very well,’ I said. “If it will do anybody any good 
you are welcome to it.” So they brought in a large 


328 THE ARAB AT HOME 


sheet, put the cyst in and tied the sheet catacorner both 
ways, hung it from a large pole and two men carried it 
down the street to the judge’s house. He looked at it 
in great astonishment. “Mashallah (What the Lord 
is able to do)!” was his first comment. The great 
cyst was carried around and exhibited to every prominent 
house in the city and was the talk of the place. Then 
after three or four days, being a thin-walled structure, 
it burst, and that was the end of the first chapter. 

But there was another chapter to the story of the 
cyst. Six months later I was in Katif on a visit and a 
man came into the reception room. “Do you know,” he 
asked my host, “who this man is?” 

“Well,” he replied, “I know who he says he is. He 
says he is the doctor from Bahrein.” 

“That is just who he is. Do you know what he did?” 

“No, what did he do?” 

“What did he do? Why this is the man who operated 
on the woman from Bedaiah. He took an enormous 
sack from her abdomen. They took it to the judge and 
to the various prominent houses of Bahrein and showed 
it everywhere, and after three or four days decided that 
they would like to know what was inside, so they opened 
it up and a live chicken jumped out of it.” 

Some of the missionaries overheard the following 
description of one of the hospital operations. ‘‘What do 
you think,” said the narrator, “that I saw this morning? 
I was in the operating room of the American Hospital 
andamancame in. The doctor listened to his chest with 
that funny little machine that he puts in his ears. ‘Yes,’ 
he said almost at once, ‘there is something the matter 
with your heart. You will have to be operated on.’ So 
he was put up on the operating table and the doctor made 


BRINGING MEDICINE TO ARABIA 329 


a large incision in his chest and took the heart out for 
inspection. ‘Just as I thought,’ he said, ‘there is some 
dirt in there’. So he opened it up and washed the dirt 
out carefully and when the heart was all clean, he sewed 
it up again very carefully and returned it to its place in- 
side of the chest. Then he closed up the chest nicely. 
‘Now,’ said he, ‘you are all right—get up and go home.’ 
So he got up and went home.” Even the Mayos can 
hardly equal that. 

The doctor who wants a job that will afford him op- 
portunity for the finest sort of personal service, that will 
tempt him with all manner of problems that demand in- 
vestigation, that will develop all the ability that he pos- 
sesses, that will give him such a degree of public esteem 
as no doctor in New York ever enjoyed and such a pro- 
fessional reputation as no doctor in the history of the 
world ever deserved, such a man belongs out in the un- 
occupied fields of the world as a medical missionary. 


CUA TER XV AT 


THE RURURE OPW AE MARAB 


the endowment of the Arab. A man with a lean, 

sinewy, piano-wire physique, a keen, active mind, 
and an incomparably free and untrammeled spirit, he 
is at once the most incorrigible individualist and the 
greatest internationalist in the world. Under a burden 
of poverty and hard living conditions such as are en- 
dured by perhaps no other people in the world, he stands 
unbent and upright, cheerfully contemptuous of all the 
luxuries and comforts of more favored races. His 
loyalty to a trusted friend, to a great leader, to his religion, 
are among the most overpowering enthusiasms to be 
found anywhere. His love of liberty and his stubborn 
belief in the essential equality of all men are at once a 
rebuke and a model for the rest of the world. He re- 
gards himself as a ruler and he justifies this opinion by 
ruling any community where he is found, even when 
greatly outnumbered by other less kingly races. 

The desert is his environment. It devours the weak 
and hardens and shrivels even the strong. That environ- 
ment has taken everything soft and beautiful out of the 
Arab nomad’s life, but the desert is a maker of men. Its 
children will always be few in number but they will never 
be weaklings. Physical endurance, the keen-mindedness 


of the scout, the toughening of fiber of mind and body, 
330 


ie the preceding chapters we have seen something of 


THE FUTURE OF THE ARAB 331 


and that incomparable education of the spirit which comes 
from constant immersion in a hard and arid and hostile 
nature—these are the contributions of the desert to the 
soul of the Arab. The desert shapes men in its own 
likeness. A contempt of death and of all lesser misfor- 
tunes which is the foundation of strength of character, a 
contempt of human opinion almost equally fundamental, 
these are commonplaces for the man whose soul has been 
molded by the great, ruthless, inscrutable desert, where 
men are insects and their utmost power that of mosquitoes 
and grasshoppers. 

That physical environment has produced the economic 
system of the Arabs. Contract and property are the gods 
of the West. The omnipotent Allah and human beings 
are the supreme values of the Arab. The traveler, the 
beggar, any man in need has the first claim on the com- 
munity’s surplus, no matter in whose hands that surplus 
may be. Flocks and herds are the object of continual 
raids, and the national sport of the Arabs consists of this 
forcible property transfer. 

Out of that physical environment has come also Arab 
government, the simplest in the world and judged by its 
suitability for its own community the most effective. It 
is a one-man administration with large rewards for good 
officials and death for the inefficient. It is an individual- 
istic not a socialistic government. The sheikh maintains 
public order, which means that no man may be coerced or 
mistreated by his neighbors. He protects the poor and 
weak from the rapacity of the rich. The equality of all 
men, which the Arab believes in with his whole soul, is 
not simply a notion of the will of God and the constitution 
of the universe. By his government the Arab translates 
that idea into actual life. Besides holding the balance 


Soe THE ARAB AT HOME 


equal between different citizens of the tribe, the sheikh 
maintains relations between the tribe and its neighbors. 
He wants everything. for his tribe, of course, but since 
his neighbors have similar desires, the result is a very fair 
balance among them all. Arab government with its 
conspicuous success in preserving the equality of all citi- 
zens and in maintaining public order among all classes has 
many lessons for us. Western colonial administrators 
in the Orient have been successful in direct proportion 
as they have copied the system of the Arab sheikh. 

Most important of all, from that environment has 
sprung the religion of the Arab. It is a religion whose 
austere, inscrutable, omnipotent God is a direct reflection 
of the great limitless desert. The God of Mohammed 
is one of the most sublime creations of the human mind. 
He is, indeed, not really a creation of the human mind. 
The Arab spirit reflected that picture as it stood facing 
the great and terrible desert in which it lived and moved 
and had its being. And because the reflection was a faith- 
ful one, because in Mohammedanism the strength and 
terribleness and infinity and caprice of the desert found 
adequate expression, that religion has ruled the primitive 
mind ever since. Equipped with no missionary organiza- 
tion, it has spread in every direction and has resisted all 
efforts to dislodge it. Tied up with a hopeless political 
system, its essential power as a religion has been able to 
create one world empire after another for centuries and 
to rule men’s hearts with undiminished power after these 
empires have gone down in utter ruin and decay. 

In spite of that endowment, in spite of the training of 
that environment, in spite of an economic system which 
contains much to be commended, a government that is 


THE FUTURE OF THE ARAB 333 


splendid, and a religion which in its appeal to the primitive 
mind is the most powerful of any in the world, the Arab 
race remains stagnant. In the days of Abraham the 
Arabs understood the world fully as well as they under- 
stand it now. ‘Their helplessness in the face of their en- 
vironment was no more complete in the past than it is 
now. ‘Their bitter poverty has not been softened. In 
the past two thousand years the Arabs have gained no 
new appreciation of truth, nor have they advanced a 
whit in their appreciation and love of beauty. Probably 
not a race in the world has remained more completely 
stagnant during this time than they. 

And that stagnation has not been due to any lack of 
those happenings which in our ignorance we term ac- 
cidents of history and which sometimes seem to furnish 
the slight impetus necessary to start the wheels of progress 
moving. In the days of the early Abbasid Caliphs the 
most advanced philosophy and science and medicine in 
the world were to be found in Baghdad. These develop- 
ments were the culmination of a beginning that dated back 
to the Damascus Caliphate and even to the days of Mo- 
hammed himself. There was no need to pray for favor- 
able accidents of history with such a start. But whether 
we think of the Abassid Caliphate in Baghdad or the 
empire of the Moguls in India or the Omayyad dynasty 
in Spain, the great civilizations of the Arabs seem always 
to “come out at the same door as in they went,” and the 
military conquest and religious propaganda and _intel- 
lectual activity remain sterile. The student of history 
can find no more melancholy spots in the world than 
Medina, Damascus, Baghdad, Delhi and Cairo, each the 
seat of a former Arab civilization which promised to 


334 THE ARAB AT HOME 


be the beginning of real progress, and each now sunk 
to the dead level of hopeless Mohammedan stagnation, 
its only hope some stimulus from outside. 

The appeal of Arabia is not merely the fact that a 
splendid race is living in ignorance and poverty and fail- 
ing to realize for itself a tithe of its possibilities. A 
superb racial endowment is going to utter waste, an en- 
dowment that is not the sole property of the Arab but in 
a far deeper and truer sense is the possession of all men. 
The world needs the Arab. Perhaps no race has a richer 
contribution to bring than he. It is not simply for the 
Arab’s own sake, but to make that splendid contribution 
available for the world, that men work for the redemption 
of Arabia. The eventual success of their efforts will be 
a contribution to the world outside almost as great as to 
the Arabs themselves. 

And if anything in this world can be regarded as cer- 
tain, it is that this racial endowment will never be de- 
veloped under coercive foreign tutelage. The whole 
genius of the Arab is against any idea that an alien civili- 
zation imposed by superior military force will ever take 
root in Arabia. It is possible that a thin veneer of 
civilization can be forced upon the Arab. There is no 
doubt that trade and. commerce can be increased, but the 
world will never be greatly enriched by Arab trade, which 
at best will be a trifle: This superficial veneering with 
western civilization is of questionable benefit to the Arab 
himself and of no benefit whatever to any one else. The 
Arab has an outstanding contribution to make to the 
world, the lack of which is a universal loss, but the only 
hope of making that contribution available is by permit- 
ting the Arab to develop his own institutions and his own 
civilization in the full uncoerced freedom which to him 


THE FUTURE OF THE ARAB Joo 


is the very breath of life. This development may take a 
long time. Doubtless it will. A few trading companies 
will report smaller profits, but the whole world will be the 
richer, 

Western commerce is coming like a flood into Arabia as 
into all other parts of the world. Commerce is often far 
from an ideal agent for the uplift of any race, but if it 
can be carried on in an atmosphere of complete equality, 
if political coercion and suzerainty can be eliminated, com- 
merce can become one of the most powerful civilizing 
forces of our time. The first step toward progress is 
dissatisfaction with the present, and western commerce 
with its dazzling array of silks and broadcloths, its auto- 
mobiles and motor launches, its books and moving pic- 
tures, has an astonishing power to create the desire for 
improvement. That desiré may manifest itself at first 
in the purchase of gaudy alarm clocks and highly colored 
silk clothes. Nevertheless it is the first step upward. 

If commerce is a powerful civilizing force, more by 
far is to be said of education. Real education is the hope 
of Arabia. Not such an education as desires to pulverize 
and destroy the intellectual and moral and religious 
foundations of the past in a vain hope that out of the 
wreck some better civilization will grow, but an educa- 
tion whose whole aim lies along the contrary road. On 
the past the future must be built. It can be built on 
nothing else. And the future for Arabia must be an 
Arab civilization. I once visited a missionary college 
located in an Arabic country. The campus and the build- 
ings would have done credit to any institution in America. 
They might indeed have been transported bodily from this 
country. The medium of instruction was English and 
other languages were forbidden on the university 


336 THE ARAB AT HOME 


grounds. The president congratulated himself on having 
so successfully transplanted to the Orient the ideals and 
spirit and technique of an American college, but had he 
known it, that very success was the measure of his failure. 
The educator from the West has a far more difficult 
task than simply transplanting American methods and 
ideals. All that our devotion to truth has uncovered, 
all the love and appreciation of beauty that we have de- 
veloped, every other good thing that we have we must 
take to the Arab. The difficult thing is to transform 
these western gifts so that they can be built into Arab 
society just as they have been built into ours. Modern 
civilization in Arabia must include every good thing from 
the West, but none the less it must remain as purely 
Arab as ever. 

If education is the stuff that progress is made of, per- 
sonal character is the foundation on which it is built. 
The missionary believes that no one is making so funda- 
mental a contribution to the Arab as he. He is almost 
the only Westerner in Arabia with a disinterested motive. 
“There are only two classes of Europeans in the Persian 
Gulf,” said a British banker to me once,—‘‘those who 
come to get rich and those who come to preach the 
Gospel.” Every hope for the Arab waits on the success 
of the missionary enterprise. If that fails in its effort 
to create an indigenous Christian community, there is no 
reason to believe that the future will be essentially dif- 
ferent from the long past. But the missionary enter- 
prise is not going to fail, and as it succeeds, as an in- 
digenous Christian community slowly comes into being, 
the whole situation will change. That Christian com- 
munity need not constitute a large proportion of the 
population. By the time it includes half of one per cent 


THE FUTURE OF THE ARAB Sie | 


of the people, its example will have transformed the 
whole atmosphere of Arab society, will have given Arabia 
an altogether new ideal of personal and family and com- 
munity life. Polygamy and free divorce will be frowned 
upon in the light of that community’s example. They 
will not entirely disappear. They have not entirely dis- 
appeared from American society. No one, however, will 
suppose that God wants men and women to live that way, 
and the man who does so live will lose caste. The public 
conscience will be transformed, family life will be 
changed, the home will come into being. The Christian 
message that transformed the individuals of that com- 
munity will eventually transform the whole social struc- 
ture, and Arabia will take her place in the great brother- 
hood of nations, one of the most richly endowed of 
them all. 





INDEX 


A 


Aba, 6, 11, 24, 57 

Abbasid (Abbaside) Caliphate, 
194, 199, 200, 333 

Abdalmalik (Abdulmelik), 195, 
196 

Abdul Aziz bin Saoud. See Ibn 
Saoud 


Abdur Rahman bin Sualim. See 


Ibn Sualim 

Abu Bekr, 189, 190, 194, 215 

Abu Dhabi (Abu Thubbi), 257 

Abu Jifan (Abu Jeffan), 34 

Abul Abbas, 199 

Abyssinia, 279, 280 

Aden, 96, 128, 178 

Afghanistan, 96, 202, 252 

PA ET ICA sy ies, ue 200, eG 
Africa, 98, 197, 250, 281 

African, 247, 249 

Aghlabites, 200 

Ahwaz, I14 

Ajair. See Ogqair 

Akbar, 189 

Akhwan (Ichwan), 39, 41, 22I- 
24, 266, 204 

Alexander, 189, I9I 

Ali, 192, 193, 196, 198, 224-26 

Amara, 118, 120 

American College of Surgeons, 
117 

American Hospital, 
also Hospital 

American Mission, 84. See also 
Arabian Mission, Mission 

Amputation, 310 

Anthrax, 309 


North 


325,)) Dee 


Appendicitis, 317 

Arab River, 72, 107, 109, III 

Arabian Mission, 282, 283, 290 
Teo lAni ail 7 

Arabian Nights, 131. See also 
Thousand and One Nights 

Arabian Sea, 127 

Arabic, 99, 105, 165 

Arabistan, I10 

Armenia, 1098 

Ascites, 317 

Ashari (Askari), 
See Hasan 

Asia Minor, 105, 192, 194, 198 

ASir,) 128; 130 

Assassins, 228 

Assyria, 106, IQI 

Azerbaijan, 198 


Hasan el. 


B 


Babylonia, 106, 191 

Baghdad (Bagdad), 6, 65, 106, 
109, II0, 116-20, 184, 197, 200, 
202, 203, 200, 281, 283, 293, 305, 
AK: 

Baghdad Caliphate, 98, 106, 200, 
201, 218, 228, 305 

Baharina (Baharna, Baharinah), 
92, 229 

Bahrein, 77, 78, 84-89, 93, 100, 


LOL WOOO OLR SLC oT ZG. 
182, WiTS3) 195,207, a20,) 237, 
240-42, 250, 258, 300, 314, 316, 
321, 326-28 

Bahrein Hospital, 32, 132, 227, 
242, 200 


Balkan Peninsula, 201 


o39 


340 


Baluch, 73, 88, 98, 146 

Baluchistan, 96, 98 

Barmecides, 199 

Barrage, Hindiya. 
Barrage 

Basra (Busrah), 107, 109, II0, 
116-20, 124, 152, 173, 178, 184, 
196, 200, 316-18 

Bedaiah, 328 

Bedouins. See Ch. II 

Belgrade, 201 

Bilharzia infection, 318 

Black Stone, 200 

Bombay, 56, 78, III, 112, 306 

Borrie, Dr., 318 

Brahmin, I51 

British :—régime, Ch. IX, 178 
f.; pearl diving administra- 
tion, 77, 87; in Oman, 98, 99; 
in Mesopotamia. III, 119, 120, 
122, 174; ally of Kuwait, 291; 
British Government, 85, 96, 
I19, 160, 314. See also Great 
Britain 

British India Steamship Com- 
pany, 86 

Budapest, 201 

Buddhism, 264 

Busrah. See Basra 

Byzantine, 190, 192 


See Hindiya 


o 


Cadi. See kadi 

Cesar, I89, IOI 

Cairo, 250, 333 

Caliphate. See Abbasid, Bagh- 
dad, Damascus and Omayyad 
caliphates 

Carmathians, 200, 202 

Central Arabia, 87, 95, 115, 116, 
172-210 

Central Asia, 96, 200, 249 

China, 249, 250, 253, 270, 278 

Chinese, 216, 277, 278, 302 

Cholera, 313, 315-16 


INDEX 


Christianity. See Ch. XV 

Church Missionary Society, 282, 
283 

Committee of Union and Prog- 
ress, 164 

Confucianism, 302 

Constantinople, 57, 65, 164, 165, 
173, 198, 201, 203, 206 

Copts, 303 


D 


Dahana (Dahna), 19 

Daher, 198 

Damascus, 57, 194, 202, 203, 333 

Damascus Caliphate, 98, 197 

Delhi, 333 

Deraiya, 129, 219, 220 

Dhabb (thub), 2, 26 

Dibars (Dubai) 7 38/9917 4.7, 
90, OI, 152, 153, 160 


E 

East \\Coast;\ (71,0067 520, ons 
229, 283, 209 

Egypt, 65, 192-94, 200, 201, 220, 
252 

El Hasa. See Hasa 

El Qatr. See Katar 

El Katar. See Katar 


Emir (of Nejd), 128, 130 

English language, 118, 120, 165, 
216 

Euphrates, 106-08, 127, 317 

Evil eye, 307 


F 


Fao, 160 

Fatimites, 200 

Feisul, 119 

Fire-worshippers, 105, 175, 252 
Fractures, 310-II 

France, 274 

Free Church, Scotch, 282, 283 


INDEX 


French language, 118, 121, 165 
French, Bishop Thomas Valpy, 
283 


G 


George, Henry, 156 

German language, 121, 165 

Germany, 272, 274 

Ghassan, 279 

Government House of Hasa, 170 

Great Britain, 119, 124, 178, 272, 
274, 284 

Great Southern Desert, 22, 96, 


99 
Great War, 86, 96, I19, 121, 283 
Gulf, Persian. See Persian Gulf 
Gurna (Korna), 106, 107, 1009, 
III 


H 
Hadhramut, 6, 128 


Hadj (haj, hajj), 244, 250 
Hadji (haji, hajj1), 244 


Hail, 129-32 

Hair ball, 325-26 

Hajjaj bin’) Yusuf.” See’, Ibn 
Yusuf 


Hanbalites, 218, 219 

Hanifites, 218 

Hannibal, Io1r 

Harun el Rashid (Haroun el 
Rasheed), 199, 201 

Pasa (tiassarntl yy biasa)) 2,0, 
IO, 22, 27, 43, 44, 46, 48, 55, 
62, 64, 65, 100, 109, 130-37, 
140, 144, 145, 147, 149, 150, 151, 
153, 158, 159, 163, 167, 170, 
174-76, 197, 206, 219, 221, 229, 
230, 250, 315, 321 

Hasan, 193, 194, 224-26, 238 

Hasan el Ashari, 211, 212 

Hejaz (Hedjaz), 119, 127, 128, 
163, 244 

Hemorrhoids, 311 


341 


Hernia, 322, 326 

Hindiya (Hindiyeh) Barrage, 
108, 120 

Hinduism, 302 

Hindustani, 216 

Hisham, 195, 198 

Hottub (Hothoot) ,7/ 8) 27, 0134, 
1390, 144, 149, 159, 176 

Hosain, 104, 220, 224-26, 238 

Hospital. See American Hos- 
pital, Bahrein Hospital 

Husein, King, 119, 127 


I 


Ibn Abdul Wahab, Mohammed, 
219 

Ibn Hanbal, 219 

Ibn Jelouee, 134-41, 147, 149, 150, 
153, 197 

Ibn Rashid, 129, 130 

Ibn Saoud, Abdul Aziz bin 
Feisul, 6, 10, 12, 65, 126, 128- 
130, 132-35, 138, 140, 141, 153, 
150; (100.1170) 170207, )2205 222) 
227, 243, 315 

Ibn Saoud, Mohammed, 219 

Ibn Sualim, 133, 161 

Ibn Yusuf, Hajjaj, 196-98 

Ibn Zobair, 196 

Ibrahim Pasha, 129, 142 

Ichwan. See Akhwan 

Idrisi (of Asir), 128 

Imam, 194, 218, 225 

India, 77, 85, 88, 96, 118, 164, 
175, 178, 186, 189, 202, 203, 
228, 248, 250, 252, 253, 281, 322, 
333 

Indian, 78, 198, 206, 277, 278, 302 

Indian Ocean, 95 

Indus, 193, 194, 198 

“Ingleez,’ 65, 85, 256 

Irak. See Mesopotamia 

islam.) 0S, Wio7, i Lo0ee aon n224- 
See also Chs. X, XI, XII, XIIT 

Ismailites, 228 


342 
J 


Jahra (Jaharah), 43 

Jaundice, 309 

Jebel Akhdar, 96 

Jebel Shammar, 130 

Jehangir, 189 

Jerboa, 26 

Jews, 66, 67, 117, 144, 146, 172 
Jidda, 127 

Jinn, 209 

Judaism, 187 


K 


Kabul, 1098 

Kadi (kahdi, cadi), 150, 182 

Karmathians. See Carmathians 

Karun River, 107 

Kashgar, 198 

Katar (Kuttar, El Qatr), 93-94 

Katif (Qatif), 2, 46, 40, 64, 71, 
TOG) £20081 93) VL S2y 153, Co, 
161, 107, 200;21. 1). 248, 250,731 3; 
S2T 82201236 

Keith-Falconer, Ion, 282, 283 

Kerbela, 194, 196, 219, 226 

Khadijah, 188 

Khalid, ror 

Khalid el Qasri, 197 

Khawarij, 98 

Khazal (Khuzzal), Sheikh, 110, 
238 

Khorasan, 193, 195, 198, 190, 203 

Koran) 42. iil aty uc0o) 2070 eOe: 
212, 6205-10, 22419230, 250,271 

Koran schools, 85, 236 

Koreish, 280 


Korna. See Gurna 
Kufa, 192, 196 
Kuttar. See Katar 


Kuwait (Kuwet), 37, 71, 72, 77, 
87, 100, 110, 130, 140, 147, 152, 
160, 238, 244, 300 


INDEX 


L 


Lahsa, 200 

Locomotor ataxia, 318 

Lower Mesopotamia. 
opotamia, Lower 

Lull, Raymon, 281, 282 


See Mes- 


M 


Mahdi, 225 

Makran (Mikron), 88, 98, 198 

Malaria 383,03910,) 227, eee 

Malay, 249 

Malikites, 218 

(Mameluke (Memluk) Sultans, 
201 

Mamun (Mamoun), 199 

Mansur (Mansoor), 199 

Mansur (Mansoor) Pasha, 161 

Marsh Arabs, III-14 

Martyn, Henry, 281 

Marx, Karl, 156 

Masjid el jami, 236 

Matra (Muttreh), ror 


Mecca, 96, 127, 192, 200, 219, 
231, 244, 245, 250, 280 

Medicine. See Ch. XVI 

Medina, 127, 120, 190-94, 197, 


202, 1203) 1220)" 333 

Mehemet Ali, 220 

Merwan II, 198 

Mesopotamia, Ch. VI, 105 #.; 
also')\6, | 474)'172,),00, 0 132,152. 
163, 170, 172, 175, 177, 178, 181, 
184, 186, 190, 191, 194-98, 200, 
203, (210; ''220,' 248," 252, 203, 
20535208, (200, 281, 1 284.5) 200) 
305, 317, 318; Lower. Mesopo- 
tamia, III-I3 

Mikron. See Makran 

Mission, Arabian, 282, 283, 290 
f., 314, 317; American, 84 

Mission Hospital, 37. See also 
American Hospital, Bahrein 
Hospital 


INDEX 


Moawiya, 192-94, 198, 201 

Mobarrek. See Mubarak 

Moguls, 189, 202, 203, 333 

Mohammed, 67, 129, 131, 187-90, 
192, 193, 201-03, 206, 215-20, 
224, 225, 230, 247, 248, 264, 
279 

Mohammedanism. See Chs. X, 
MLTR ILE 

Mohammed Effendi, 150, 
206, 207 

Mohammed bin Abdul Wahab. 
See Ibn Abdul Wahab 

Mohammerah (Muhammera), 
107, I10, 238 

Moharram, 1094, 226-27 

Mollah. See mullah 

Mongols, 106, 200, 228, 305 

Moro, 252 

Mosul, 6, 108, 109, 116-20 

Mubarak (Mobarrek), 
130, 140, 147, 152, 160 

Muharram. See Moharram 

Mullah (mollah), 235 

Murra, Al, 3, 4 

Muscat, 96, 183, 283 

Mutasarrif, 169, 171 

Muttreh. See Matra 


170, 


Sheikh, 


N 


Napoleon, Io1 

Near East, 180, 274 
Nebuchadnezzar, 125 

Nejd, 105, 126, 128, 130, 219 
Nicene Council, 279 
Norman, Dr., 184 

North Africa. See Africa 
North India. See India 


O 


Ojeir. See Ogqair 
Oman, Ch. V, 95 #.; also 105, 
280, 283, 315, 320 


343 


Omar, 189-91, 194, 215 

Omayyad (Ommayad) Caliphate, 
194, 195, 197-90, 201-03; in 
Spain, 202, 333 

Oqair (Ajair, Uker), 27, 135 

Othman, 192-94, 216 

Ottoman Sultans, 201 

Oxus, 193 


BE 


Palestine, ror 

Palgrave, William Gifford, 213, 
222 

Palmyra, 279 

Paradise, 207, 208, 211, 212, 246 

Paresis, 318 

Paul the Apostle, 78 

Pearh Divers, Ch, ol Vi wtf, 

Persia, 72, 86, 88, 96, 105, 106, 
178, \190-92, 104, 108, 237, 
252 

Persian, 84, 92, II0, 141, 142, 146, 


380) 100,0),100,) 202, || 216. ho345 
229, 303 

Persian Gulf, 76, 77, 86, 87, 105, 
TU ISO TSS tod wet 220) 
231 5h 251) 205. 200, Na7eiene: 
314, 336 

Philippines, 180, 250, 252, 284, 
301 


Pirate Coast, 80, 87-90, 102, 130 

Political Agent, British, 3, 7, 182, 
183, 221 

Prophet, The, 130, 192, 196, 215, 
219, 228. See also Moham- 
med 

Purgatives, 308 


Q 
Qatr, El. See Katar 
Qatif. See Katif 


Quack medicine, 305, 306 


344 
R 


Ramadhan, 132, 217, 238, 2390 

Ras el Kheima, 71, 72, 90, 91, 99 

Rashid dynasty. See Ibn Rashid 

Red Sea, 127, 244, 282 

Reformed Church, 282 

Riyadh (Riad, Riadh), 6, 10, 16, 
22, 43, 44, 67, 129-31, 133, 135, 
TAG i142) 145) 81 220,)) 2230234, 
319, 326, 327 

Ruba el Khali, 96. See also 
Great Southern Desert 

Russia, 270, 274 


S 


Sabzans, 105, 175. See also 
Fire-worshippers 

Said (Saeed), Sheikh, 160 

Samarkand, 198 

Sanaa, 279, 280 

Saoud dynasty. See Ibn Saoud 

Sayyid Talib. See Talib 

Scotch Free Church, 282, 283 

Shafites, 218 

Shakespear, Capt. William, 3, 4 

Sharja (Sharga), 90, 91 

Sheikh Othman, 282 

Sherif (of Mecca), 127 

Shiah (Shiite), 66, 67, 114, 132, 


142, 146, 174, 193, 194, 198, 
200, 218, 220, 224-26, 228-30, 
238, 285 

Sind, 198 

Smallpox, 300, 313 

Spain, 197 


Standard Oil Company, 86, 270 

Stone cases, 317-18 

Suez Canal, 85 

Suleiman (Omayyad 
198, 201 

Suleiman the Magnificent, 201 

Sulug, 49-50 

Sunni, 41, 66, 67, 90, 146, 174, 
193, 218, 224, 229, 230, 238 


caliph), 


INDEX 


Surgeons, American College of, 
117 

Surgery. See Ch. XVI 

Syphilis, 308, 316, 318, 319 

Syria, 118, 190-95, 198 

Syrian desert, 105, 206, 279 


cD 


Talib, Sayyid, 172, 173 

Thousand and One Nights, 190, 
209. See also Arabian Nights 

Tibet, 253 

Tigris River, 106, 107, 127, 283, 
317 

Tours, 198 

Trachoma, 308, 311 

Trichiasis, 311-13 

Tuberculosis, 316-17 

Turkey, 105, 201, 203, 220, 237, 
250, 252, 270, 208 

Turkish :—empire, 119, 129, 174, 


201-03, 255; language, 165; 
miscellaneous, III, 131, 134, 
265, 2091. See also Turkey, 
Turks 

‘Lurks,’ Che VIII," 163 raise 
118,5 E10, 912244127, 0' 1 oosens 4c 


153, 100, IST, 201) 203;0 eae 
Young Turks, 108 


U 


Uker (Ugqair). See Ogair 

Union and Progress, Committee 
of, 164 

Umm el Qaiwain (Um el Go- 
wain), 71 


Vv 


Vaccine, 306 

Vaccination for anthrax, 309 
Vali, 169, 171 

Van Dyck, Cornelius, 282 
Vizier, 199 


INDEX 345 
W X-Ray, 184 


Wahabi (Wahhabi, Wahabee), Y 

Cepia, ht 2y1300) 43. 5S 7a Oe, 

126-30, 134, 130, 176, 206, 220- 

24, 227, 234, 237, 263 Ta ROE E50 

; 4 Yazid, 193 
Walid (Welid), 195, 198 Y 6 ERM Ballin Ro 
Warneck, Dr., 204 ae » 99; Reese toe 
Westernism. See Ch. XIV 
Willcocks, Sir William, 108 BEE guns Boe 
World War. See Great War : 
x 

| Zakat, 158, 160 
Xenophon, 106 Ziyad (Ziad), 195, 106 
Xerxes, 189 Zoroastrianism, 281 


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